


Show a Little More (And a Little Less)

by luxpermanet



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:59:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxpermanet/pseuds/luxpermanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Kris, it has always a never-ending battle between the consequences of fear and the temptations of desire. The only way to forge a path to freedom is to slip on a sequined dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Show a Little More (And a Little Less)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kradam Big Bang, and inspired by Burlesque and the lovely Raja herself. As I like to say, any excuse to put Kris in a dress is a good one. Also, parts of this fic discuss the dilemma of homophobia; I hope the characters put things into perspective to those who, to this day, cannot accept our gay, lesbian and transgender friends.
> 
> My friend Melissa did the art for this story. You can check it out at my LJ when said website decides to stop being idiotic.

Kris Allen couldn’t remember the last time he had looked in the mirror without wanting to break it. He’d kept his head down on his way out of the airport, even if the soles of his battered Converse were treading on the ground of a state where no one knew his name. Still, that was the one good thing about cashing out all of his hard-earned money on a one-way plane ticket to Los Angeles—he would take the feeling of being ignored over the feeling of having everyone he knew treat him with such disdain. He had carried the image of the sad, disappointed looks on his parents’ faces when they had found out he was gay all the way to LA, coupling it with the sneering, hate-filled remarks from people he had considered friends.

 _Fag_. He never thought he would hear something so foul come out of an old friend’s mouth.

Of course, there had been Katy; the one person whom he had thought would never abandon him because they had shared so much. He knew it hadn’t been fair for her to find out the true nature of his sexuality by carelessly allowing her to catch him with his hand down the football team captain’s pants, but he had never expected her to be one of those who would spit in his face and call him names. Fortunately, Cale and Charles had come to his rescue and had pulled him out of the fray. He had spent a few days at Charles’ place before mustering enough courage to come home one last time to take his things and bid a silent goodbye to his parents before flying off to the City of Angels.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly and completely alone. Cale and Charles still cared about him, but it would be ridiculous of him to ask them to drop everything and fly to LA with him. Kris understood the fact that they had lives; he used to have one, too.

Given that it was all he could afford at the moment, he had been forced to settle for a cramped room that smelled of mothballs and wet laundry at a rundown apartment. For the next few days, he allowed himself to wallow in misery and feel sorry for himself within those four walls, trying hard not to remember the life that he’d once had. He knew he could have kept things under wraps if he hadn’t allowed himself to come out, but that would have meant that he was content with living a lie.

Kris could deal with being called numerous derogatory names. The one thing he couldn’t deal with was to allow himself to be called a liar.

He let the empty bottle of beer he had been nursing for the past hour or so roll away into some crack in the pavement, directing his attention to the gaudy sprawl of buildings across the street. It was amazing how LA could be everything and nothing at the same time. The city was home to several of the most famous structures in the world of pop culture, but hid its horns in the forms of suspicious-looking strip clubs and seedy gentlemen’s bars—temporary reprieves for those crumbling under the pressure of reality. A long time ago, during the days when he was still perched high on his pedestal, he would have been mocking the people who frequented such places. Now that he was at the end of his rope and clinging to it for dear life, he would do as much as give _anything_ to be one of them.

All men needed reprieves; Kris was not exempt from the rule.

The sound of joyful laughter from across the street distracted him from his musings. A petite drag queen in a corseted black and pink lace dress emerged from the front entrance of one of the burlesque clubs, a handsome man (one of them seemed like Zac Efron to Kris) on each of her arms. She tittered cheerfully at something Efron’s companion said before bidding them goodbye as a limo pulled up to fetch them. Kris watched in amazement as she made her way back into the club, hips swaying and heels clicking on the pavement. Though she moved like a woman, there was no doubt that she was indeed, a man. A shard of envy pricked at him like a thorn; the men knew what parts she had under her skirts but seemed neither disgusted nor ashamed to be in her company. Back in Conway, homosexuality was unheard of; most men in Arkansas would rather die than think of rubbing a bit of rouge on their cheeks.

He stumbled to his feet and made his way to the club— _The Red Room_ , said the large, light-up sign on the roof—nervously fishing for the twenty he had in his pocket.

“Are you sure you’re in the right place, sweetheart?” the lanky brunette at the ticket booth asked. “I don’t know if it’s right to judge you by your clothes from where you’re from, but that’s what we do here in LA. As far as I’m concerned, sad-looking boys who look like they’ve just rolled out of a haystack don’t really belong in here. You’d better get home, kid; you might end up dead in this part of town.”

“…I should hate you right now,” Kris mumbled. “I should hate you because you’ve clearly just insulted me—the thing is, I don’t hate you because you’re right. In fact, I may as well be dead because my old life doesn’t exist anymore. Even if I go back home—wherever that is—no one’s going to welcome me back with open arms. You can’t just go out and be...be _gay_ in a place like Conway, Arkansas.”

“Whoa, hold on there, kiddo.” The man ducked out of the booth just in time to prevent him from keeling over. “Come on in; you’re a little drunk and you’re seriously going to die if I leave you out here. Ignore what I said earlier, alright? You’re in dire need of affection right now.”

“I have a twenty here somewhere…” Kris rifled through his pocket with his free hand. “I’m not so butt poor that I can’t afford to pay my way into some club—”

“You can worry about the admission fee later,” the man said gently. “You can buy me a drink the next time you pop in. For now, step into our parlor—I’ll have Brandi see to you.”

Kris blinked as his world shifted. Moments ago, he had been making a fool of himself along the streets of LA’s campiest districts, spilling his woes out to a barely-clothed stranger manning the ticket booth of some club. Now, he was standing inside the said club, relishing the feel of plush red carpeting beneath the sole of his shoes. It was like he had been transported to some alternate world where everyone was beautiful, sinful and passionate—all the things he had never allowed himself to be.

“Oh, you poor thing! Here, come have a drink with me.”

The drag queen Kris had seen earlier came at him in a flurry of lace and bright pink feathers. She slipped her gloved hand into his and led him to one of the empty tables. Almost immediately, a bottle of beer materialized in front of him courtesy of a handsome, russet-haired bartender.

“Well, aren’t you quick!” Brandi giggled, fluttering her long lashes at him. “I swear, you have this radar that goes haywire when someone in need of a good drink comes crawling in.”

“Raja hired me for a reason,” he chuckled. “And what about you, Miss B? What are you having?”

“I’ll have a Mojito, please,” she replied. “Oh, with lychee vodka instead of white rum this time! Thank you, Cook; you’re such a doll.”

Kris watched in amusement as Cook flung an olive at Brandi, who only giggled in response. She turned back to Kris and placed her hand over his, squeezing it as a form of reassurance.

“He hates it when I call him Cookie,” she said solemnly. “But I do it anyway because that’s how I roll. Anyway, enough about us; I want to know what’s going on with you. Cassidy—he’s the babe manning the ticket booth, bless his beautiful soul—doesn’t really half-drag pretty boys in plaid in here for me to comfort them. Also, he never lets people in for free.”

Kris practically inhaled half the contents of his beer, praying the slight buzz in his head would give him the courage to speak up. He was already half-drunk, but was still too afraid to share his deepest, darkest secrets. He didn’t think he could stand it if this beautiful, kind-hearted illusion of a man turned on him just like everyone else in his life had.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Brandi assured him. “Based on what Cass told me, it sounds like you were treated very badly when you came out to your friends and family, which totally sucks. I just want you to know that no one’s here to judge you. Some of our guys here come from that, and they all found the courage to deal with it through drag.”

“I have a hard time talking about it because it hurts so much!” Kris exclaimed. “It hurts to have your friends and your parents— _fuck_ , even my own mama left me—look at you like you’ve committed the gravest sin just because you decided to embrace who you really are. Except for two of my closest friends, I don’t have anyone left. I—I just don’t know what to do from here…”

He wiped his tears with the back of his hand, ashamed to be seen crying in a public place. Brandi stared at him for a moment before rising from her seat, motioning for him to do the same.

“Follow me.”

“…where are we going?” he asked hoarsely.

“To what may hopefully be a better life for you—that is, if you want it to be,” Brandi said quietly. “I’m taking you to meet Raja; she’s the best person to tell your story to.”

Kris allowed himself to be led up a narrow flight of stairs and into a large, well-lit room. Dozens of vanity tables littered with brushes and tubes and containers of makeup nearly took up the entire room. On the far end were endless racks of glittery, satiny costumes similar to what Brandi had on. Kris reluctantly reached out to run a finger over the detailed beading of a silver garment, afraid that the beauty would wither and die under his tainted touch.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A new voice snapped him out of his trance. “That’s what I wore when I won RuPaul’s last year; it’s a personal favorite of mine. Given the fact that I’ve become the Mother Goose figure around this place, I rarely wear such things nowadays. It’s just good to have a pleasant reminder of my glory days within reach.”

“…I—I didn’t mean to touch it.” Kris withdrew his hand, cheeks coloring in shame. “I’m so sorry; it was shiny and well… _there_. Sometimes, I can’t help myself.”

The woman that had walked into the room may as well have been the Queen of All Things. She was tall—much taller than Kris himself—olive-skinned with a pale, powdered face and wig, and had an overall exotic air to her. Still, she bore a kind, amused expression on her face; Kris liked her immediately.

“Brandi brought me here,” he admitted. “She told me to see someone named Raja.”

“That would be me, sweetheart,” she beamed at him. “And the only time the girls only send people back here is when they see a potential addition to our family.”

“Oh god, I don’t belong here,” Kris shook his head. “You are all too beautiful; I simply wouldn’t fit in when I’m clearly going to be the ugly duckling.”

“Have a seat, Kris.” Raja pointedly ignored him. “Do you drink tea?”

“Sometimes, yes,” Kris replied, making himself comfortable on the plush divan. “I’m more of a coffee person, but I discovered that drinking tea really helps calm down the nerves.”

“Indeed it does,” Raja agreed, setting a floral teacup on a saucer before handing it to him. “It’s a four berry tea; I believe you’ll find it quite pleasant.”

Kris lifted the cup to his lips and downed some of the steaming liquid, feeling much more alert than he had been all evening. Raja took it from him and set it on the table before taking his hands in both of hers.

“What happened to you, honey?” she asked softly. “You look like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders; it’s heartbreaking to see someone so sweet look so sad.”

“It all started—and even ended—on the night of my college graduation ball.” Kris exhaled, rubbing his palms together. “I went with my ex-girlfriend as a friendly date just so we could hang with the rest of our friends. I ended up getting tipsy with one of the guys on the football team, and he seemed to be into me. He invited me to go somewhere private, and I agreed to go with him. I was drunk, so I didn’t realize that…that I had my hand down his pants. Everything went crazy when all the guys barged in and took pictures and stuff. It turned out that the entire team had set me up just to prove that I was gay. Worst of all, Katy didn’t even help me. She just stood there and yelled accusations about me secretly fantasizing about other guys when we were still together. I would probably be dead by now if my best friends didn’t arrive in time to save me. Numerous sad days, disappointed looks and a plane ticket later, here I am.”

“…it’s amazing how they don’t ever get sick of their incessant bullying.” Raja’s grip on Kris’ hands tightened considerably. “I’ve listened to so many stories about bullying in the past and it saddens me greatly. I used to ask myself why we have to suffer so much just because we are attracted to other men—this just goes to show that people have boxed themselves in with what they have gotten used to seeing. They refuse to peek outside that box in fear of being changed by what they perceive as ‘abnormal’. This is why I established The Red Room, Kris. All the queens you see out there are gay men who were once afraid to step out into the streets in fear of being mocked, ridiculed and hated. I don’t know what Brad—that’s Brandi’s real name, by the way—told you, but working here has allowed my boys to explore their sexuality in the safe confines of women’s clothing. As time passes, they become more confident in their skin, mainly because our patrons know that they have dicks under their skirts, but enjoy their company nonetheless. I’m extending the very same invitation to you, Kris; if you’re up to the challenge, I would like for you to experience how it feels to be revered by men for who you are.”  
“I don’t think I have the confidence, Raja,” he said truthfully. “Even if I put on a costume, it won’t change the fact that I’m still a scared little shit who can’t even love himself.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised at the results,” Raja said with a coy smile. “Come on, sweetheart; do it for good ol’ Raja, at least. You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to.”

“Well, it’s not like I have any better confidence boosters in my head,” Kris said with a weak chuckle. “Alright; I’m ready to be dolled up and…stuff.”

“Excellent.” Raja gracefully got to her feet and moved towards the costume rack. “We’ll start you off with something simple; you don’t have to worry about putting on a slinky flapper dress like what Brandi’s wearing tonight—ah, I think I have just the one.”

Kris watched in fascination as Raja pulled a gold sequined dress with a flirty hemline from the rack. Smiling, Raja folded it over Kris’ arm, allowing him to get the feel of it.

“It will set your eyes off beautifully,” she said. “Now, go get changed behind those curtains; I’m going to find you some shoes and stockings; we can’t have hairy legs showing under that dress.”

Kris felt surprisingly light-hearted as he ducked behind the heavy drapes with the dress hanging from his arm. Briefly considering his reflection in the mirror (he turned quickly to fight down the desire to break it), he quickly divested himself of his clothing, confused at his sudden desire to feel the brush of silk against his bare skin. Swallowing hard, he carefully pulled the dress over his head and pushed his arms into the sleeves, surprised at how well the fabric molded to his slim frame. He gaped at the bright-eyed man gazing back at him in the mirror, feeling his hatred wash away in waves.

“Are you alright, honey?” Raja poked her head into the dressing room. “I have the rest of your—oh, _wow_. Look at you, beautiful! The dress is just perfect on you.”

“…you think so?” Kris asked shyly. “I sort of feel good in it.”

“Like you’re meeting an old friend?” Raja pressed a kiss to his temple. “I know exactly how that feels, love; that was how I felt when I tried on my first dress.”

Kris pressed a hand to his cheek, surprised to realize that the skin was damp with his own tears. Raja produced a silk handkerchief from her own dress and gently dabbed at his tears, cradling him against her chest like a mother would her own child. Kris allowed her to bear his weight, sniffling a little into her chest before gracelessly righting himself, chuckling weakly when he saw a pair of black satin pumps on the dressing room floor.

“God, I just know I’m going to trip over everything in these things,” he remarked, reluctantly toeing off his Converse and socks. “I’m already a bull in a china shop in my shoes alone.”

“Practice makes perfect, doll,” Raja chided him as she had him roll on a pair of black stockings. “We’ll work on your walk a little bit each day; by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be walking like Andrej Pejic on the runway of New York Fashion Week.”

“And suddenly, the world seems a little less scary,” Kris laughed, trying not to wobble in his new shoes. “Oh my god, I don’t even know why I’m laughing right now.”

“It’s because you finally feel grounded,” Raja replied candidly. “Come, it’s time for hair and makeup—which is admittedly my most favorite part of this entire process.”

“I’m still amazed at how you manage to get that blond poof to stay on,” Kris giggled, gesturing to the Elizabethan pile of faux platinum hair on Raja’s head. “It must be a monster to work with!”

“It is, but that’s part of what makes Raja who she is,” she quirked an eyebrow at him. “Now, sit! I have the perfect look in mind for you already.”

Kris lost track of what Raja was doing at the first swipe of a brush against his cheek; she worked with the noticeable expertise and precision of an artist who had painted millions of faces at various points in time. In a flurry of shimmering golds and rich browns, Kris felt himself becoming the kind of person he had always wanted to be.

“Can I see?” he asked.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” Raja replied, moving to a large glass case with wigs on display. “As soon as I get this wig on your head, I’m sure you’re going to make the perfect picture.”

She chose a wig of long, wavy dark brown hair and combed through it with her fingers before adjusting the garter straps to conform to the size of Kris’ head. Kris bit his lip as Raja carefully pulled the wig over his head, arranging the curls so they fell neatly across his chest.

“Are you ready?” she asked him. “This is a big change from what you saw awhile ago, so it might trigger more emotional feelings. If you feel like you’re ready, I’m going to turn your chair slowly towards the mirror. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Yes,” Kris whispered. “The anticipation is killing me, so, yeah.”

He lifted his head as Raja turned the stool to face the mirror, more than a little floored to see the face of a beautiful woman staring back at him. He reached out to touch his reflection in the mirror with trembling fingers, trying to map the soft contours of the face of the woman in it.

“Do you see her, Kris?” Raja asked softly. “That’s Krista. Now, I want you to tell me—and the rest of the world—her story.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“…so Brandi whipped out her handbag—heavily beaded, mind you—and started _clobbering_ the guy with it! Thank goodness the idiots ran away before she decided to maul them with her new Louboutins. I don’t know how much you boys know about women’s shoes, but the latest addition to Brandi’s collection are, like, studded with gems with a four-inch spike heel. Totally a murder weapon.”

Krista beamed triumphantly at her guests for the night, signaling in Cook’s direction for another round of Bloody Mary cocktails to serve at her table. Earlier in the evening, Raja had asked her to attend to celebrity photographer Lee Cherry and his gaggle of shiny, happy friends. She had been awkward for a few moments, quite unsure of what to say to semi-famous people whose names she had seen in magazine articles, but Lee’s wife had broken the awkward silence by complimenting Krista’s dress. The Bohemian snakeskin Zac Posen dress (Krista had Raja and Brandi to thank for pumping information on designer labels into her head) had been the main topic for the first five minutes of their conversation, and it had sort of evolved from there. An hour and a half later, Krista had the entire Cherry posse in tears of mirth thanks to her anecdotes about her recent adventures with Brandi.

She had never expected that she would end up taking Raja’s offer, much less a quick status evolution from the new girl to the crowd favorite among The Red Room’s patrons.

Her first shift at the bar had unexpectedly begun on the night Kris Allen had walked into it in a sad attempt to escape reality. As soon as Raja had put the finishing touches on her makeup, Brandi had barged into the room saying something about how one of the queens had fallen ill and that they had no one to fill in her post for that particular shift. When she had finished her little tirade, her eyes had landed on Krista in all her made-up glory, which made her face do this thing that Krista only ever saw in cartoons—the face Bugs Bunny or some other character made when a brilliant idea pervaded their thoughts. She couldn’t remember exactly how Brandi had persuaded her to cover for the absentee, but Krista had soon found herself enjoying a couple of beers with her new client, Tommy Joe Ratliff. Her time with Tommy had consisted of alcohol, making out, heavy petting and a sloppy blowjob (she’d been surprised at how willing she had been to get down on her knees for him), but more importantly, she had made a good friend. Before he left, Tommy had told her that she’d be seeing him again sooner than she would expect.

From that night on, it had been a pretty smooth ride for Krista. A happy client would end up bringing along a few friends just so they could meet her during their next visit, and those friends would bring other friends. During those past two weeks, Krista had earned more than half of what Kris could earn waiting tables for a month or two, which allowed her to provide for Kris, herself and their friends. Kris had shucked his old apartment upon receiving a roomie invite from Brad, which meant that all their expenses were shared fifty-fifty. Aside from the tendency of the couple next door to go at it like cats when Kris and Brad were ready to tumble into bed in the wee hours of the morning, everything was perfect.

Kris loved being Krista; she was a welcome breath of fresh air in his otherwise dreary, depressing life.

“Krista! Can you come over here for a sec?” Brandi hollered in an attempt to make herself heard over the music. “Raja wants to talk to us! She says it’s important.”

“I’ll be there shortly!” Krista promised, knocking back the last of her Bloody Mary before rising to pull at the hem of her indecently short dress. “I’m so sorry, sweethearts; I’ll have to leave you alone for a bit. Should I ask one of the other girls to replace me for awhile, or you’ll be fine on your own?”

“We’ll be okay, honey,” Alisan Porter assured her. “We were just about to leave, anyway. God, it is so, so good to meet you! Don’t forget to text me when you’re free for a shopping date, alright?”

“I promise I won’t forget!” Krista beamed. “I’ll call you when I have a day off from work; you too, Miss Scarlett. Give my love to the little Riffster!”

She blew kisses to all of them before turning on her heel to walk towards Brandi, who was motioning towards the backstage area. Tammy Jean—Tommy Joe’s drag queen alter ego—and three other queens Krista recognized as Coco, Dominique and Giselle were lounging about, clearly awaiting Raja’s instructions. Nodding a greeting to Krista, Tammy Jean scooted over to make room for her on the loveseat, reaching over to smooth out the tangles in Krista’s wig. Seconds later, Raja—or Sutan Amrull, as she was called in the ‘real world’— emerged from the wings, dressed down and fresh-faced in a black tank, ripped denims and a pair of flip-flops.

“So, how major is this, Mama?” Brandi asked, picking at the chipping polish on her fingertips. “I take it this is going to be an outside job where you’ve been asked to place your best bets on the table.”

“Spot on, Cheeks,” Sutan winked at him. “I just got off the phone with a very good friend of mine. His father wants some of the queens from The Red Room to serve at a dinner party tomorrow night at the Sofitel. This is going to be a big deal for us because dinner parties equal executives, their wives and their children. If they like us well enough, then we are going to be assured of more than enough to keep up with the expenses of running this place. I want all six of you there with me tomorrow evening dressed in your very best. I’m going to pay you double for your work tomorrow and even throw in an extra day off.”

“I could kiss you, Mama!” Krista clapped her hands excitedly. “This sounds like a really wonderful opportunity for the club.”

“And for you boys, too,” Sutan reminded them. “Remember, this isn’t just about work. I want you to go out there and mingle. Make friends, find lovers, even drag a hook-up home; you’re all amazing young men and I would hate for you to go out there and do your thing just because it’s your job and you’re getting paid for it. That is not what drag is about—I need you all to understand that. Now, go get changed and start closing up; you’ll need your beauty sleep for tomorrow.”

“I feel like I have a year’s worth of foundation on my face,” Brad sighed dramatically, pulling the bob-cut wig off his head. “I kept coming back to the dressing room to retouch because one of my clients from tonight got all emotional on me. I just had to cry because I felt so bad for him! Imagine how you would feel if you caught your fiancée of almost one year having sex with some other guy in your bedroom.”

“That’s shit, man,” Tommy shook his head. “I really don’t get why people are never happy with what they have. It’s like they lose themselves completely when temptation walks through the door.”

“Temptation _is_ a powerful force,” Brad agreed. “But I would much rather fall in love with someone who’ll love me forever than someone who will only ‘love’ me for a minute. As much as I love having fun in the beds of other men, I still have dreams of having someone to come home to one day.”

Kris wandered over to his dressing table, reaching backward to tug at the zip of his dress. Sighing, he allowed it to shimmy down his hips, letting it pool at his feet as he toed off his heels. He donned the lavender silk robe Sutan had given him and sat at the vanity, getting ready to begin the process of removing his makeup. He hated how his good mood would always melt away with the last of his makeup. When he was in Krista’s shoes, it was so easy to forget everything and just live like there was nothing to worry about. However, everything always came flooding back the moment he saw his own face in the mirror.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, man,” Tommy advised, propping himself up on the table. “I know how shitty you feel when you reach for the makeup remover, but you’ve got to allow yourself to believe that there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Here, let me do that for you.”

“I’m sorry,” Kris said quietly, welcoming the cold touch of the makeup remover on his skin. “You really shouldn’t be coddling me like this; I’m a grown man who should be mature enough to deal with this on his own. Heck, I shouldn’t even be having issues in the first place.”

“You’re right; I shouldn’t,” Tommy agreed. “But there’s a big difference between having to do things—close your eyes—and wanting to do them. I want to do this for you because it’s the only thing aside from the drag gig that’s keeping you up. You’re an affection-starved little boy who was ultimately misunderstood by the people he thought loved him the most. If a kiss or two on the cheek is going to keep a smile on that pretty face, then I’m more than happy to oblige.”

“You spoil me too much,” Kris sighed. “You, Brad and Sutan. I wish I could just wake up one morning without all this emotional baggage so I can function like a normal person again. I end up depending too much on the rest of you because I’m in dire need of support.”

“Sweetheart, you _are_ a normal person,” Tommy assured him. “You were betrayed and left to the wolves; it’s only natural that you’d feel upset about it. Personally, I’m all up for booking a flight to Conway just so I can throw a punch or fifty at each person who has made you feel like shit.”

Kris laughed. “And to think our first meeting culminated in a blowjob.”

“Hey, that was pretty darn good.” Tommy chuckled. “You’ve got a great mouth on you, Kris Allen. That was the first time—and maybe not the last, because I ain’t putting no cap on my sexuality—I let a guy blow me. Verdict? You are seriously better than my ex-girlfriend.”

“I’m charmed, Ratliff,” Kris laughed. “If ever you’d be up for a repeat, let me know so I can tell Krista.”

“I don’t work that way, honey,” Tommy said firmly, pressing a kiss to Kris’ forehead. “To me, Kris and Krista are one and the same. Just because you’re far more self-conscious as the little man in plaid doesn’t mean I love you any less once you’re out of the dress.”

Kris trembled slightly. “You don’t think it’s abnormal that I hate myself so much when I’m not Krista?”

“I don’t see it as a manifestation of self-hate,” Tommy replied, pressing another damp cotton ball to Kris’ under-eye area. “It’s more of a slight trauma, if you ask me. You’re unable to love yourself because the people you thought cared about you turned their backs on you the moment they found out you were gay. In all honesty, there’s no one to land the blame on in this situation. Some people think the way they do because they were raised to think that way; they would be rewarded handsomely for complying, but punished severely for rebelling. We can choose to blame history, but what good would that be? Only cowards place the blame on the dead.”

“If there’s anyone I choose to blame, it’s me.” Kris sighed. “I’m just not strong enough, Tommy. The only time I find myself capable of summoning the courage to pick myself up from the ground is when I’m in high heels and a dress. It’s sad how easily I can find the words to defend myself when I’m dressed as a girl while I just lie there and take the insults when I’m just me.”

“We’ll work on it, baby.” Tommy reached out and pulled him into a tight embrace. “It’s going to be a long and difficult journey, but we’ll make sure you get there. It’s all about taking baby steps, Kris. And when you feel scared and hopeless along the way, Sutan, Brad and I will be there. We’re not going to abandon you, baby. We know what it feels like to not be wanted ourselves.”

Kris burrowed his face into Tommy’s chest and breathed. There was nothing he could do but believe.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“…no way, Brandi. There is no way in hell I am wearing _that_!”

Krista edged away from the tight-fitting nude lace dress in fear of Brandi pulling it over her head. It was insanely short and skimpy as heck; she had no idea how on earth Brandi had deemed it appropriate for a business dinner where they would be catering to rich men in suits.

“It just looks skimpy, honey,” Brandi assured her. “I promise it’s not going to ride up and expose your thong or anything. You’re biologically male, so it’s going to look a lot less obscene—okay, maybe more— on you than on an actual girl. Besides, you need to show off those newly waxed legs of yours.”

“Fine,” Krista grumbled, snatching the garment from Brandi. “But if upskirt photos of me appear somewhere on the internet, I am going to deprive you of my crab and mango salad for a month!”

“And to be deprived of Krista’s cooking is a dying shame!” Coco laughed. “That goes double for you since you live with her, Brandi. Maybe you’ll wind up going back to your days of organic wheatgrass.”

“Brandi ate _wheatgrass_?” Krista poked her head out from the dressing room, expression aghast. “But what does that even taste like? It sounds pretty darn awful if you ask me.”

“Brad and Cassidy went through this organic ‘food’ phase.” Tammy rolled her eyes. “Trust me; you don’t want to know what organic wheatgrass even looks like.”

“Well, we can’t all be like you, wasp waist,” Brandi retorted. “Not everyone can stuff tacos into their body every single day and not gain an ounce.”

“Story of my life,” Tammy smirked, applying a second layer of kohl to her lids. “I could say the same for Krista, though; the bitch can eat.”

“Yes, I can,” Krista nodded sagely, making a beeline for the leather jacket Tommy had worn on their way to the hotel. “And before I hear any objections, I’ll be wearing this for the rest of the night and that’s final. The skirt is already obscenely short; I’ll look like a stripper. Plus, it’s cold.”

“I hate semi-formal events,” Tammy scowled, tugging on the hem of her leather-and-chiffon dress. “I can’t even wear my creepers tonight. If I trip all over you in these monstrous heels, that’s because I can’t walk an inch in them. I’ll take any job that involves standing.”

“Even if you have to greet people at the door?” Brandi asked with a giggle. “We all know that’s the job you hate the most. Raja was going to do it herself tonight, but since you’re so keen on not moving at all, I can talk to her about letting you help out.”

“…I’d rather walk, thank you very much,” Tammy said frostily. “I can watch out for the old men trying to get a handful of Krista’s extremely generous behind.”

“You do that, sweetheart.” Raja emerged from the suite, looking stunning in a long champagne-colored gown. “Mister Lambert is expecting us to be down there in ten minutes; guests will be arriving shortly after. I’m sure you all know what to do, but just in case you run into trouble, don’t hesitate to approach me by the reception area. Be polite to the guests—some of them will be bringing their sons and daughters along, so there might be some eye candy—and have a great time.”

“I am so there!” Brandi tittered cheerfully, snatching up her beaded clutch before making a beeline for the door. “See you later, ladies. Maybe there are going to be some hot guys on the early arrivals list.”

Krista made a move to follow, but was stopped by Raja on her way out.

“May I have a word with you, sweetie?”

“Of course,” Krista replied, waving Tammy on, briefly indicating with a hand gesture that she would catch up shortly. “Is my dress too short? I can pick out something else; this is all Brandi’s fault.”

“No, no,” Raja shook her head, smiling. “You look perfect, honey; I have no complaints about your outfit. I just wanted to ask if you found it to presumptuous of me to think that you were ready for such a big thing. It’s just that you have a way with handling all our patrons, Kris; some of them are going to end up as your regulars for as long as you want to keep this job. You bring a certain sparkle to the club, and I am so, so proud of you for being able to do that. Even if you can only embolden yourself when you assume the role of Krista, it is a huge first step. Never be too hard on yourself, honey.”

“Thank you, Mama.” Krista leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “I owe you everything.”

“Good girl.” Raja embraced her tightly. “Now, go and make me proud!”

Krista blew her a kiss before heading out, unsurprised to see Tammy waiting for her in the hallway. Since day one, Tommy had made it crystal clear that he would always be there for Kris, and his drag queen alter ego was intent on upholding her end of the bargain.

“It was nothing serious,” Krista explained as they descended the staircase companionably. “To generalize things, she just told me to let loose and have fun.”

“Good advice,” Tammy agreed. “But don’t get too wasted; stuff could happen. It’s always the quiet ones that make the biggest messes when they’re wasted.”

“Trust me; I won’t even go near the alcohol.” Krista shuddered. “Cale says I turn into a whore when I’m drunk; these rich gentlemen do not need to see that.”

“And they’re old.” Tammy wrinkled her nose. “I have nothing against old men, but that all changes when I feel a gnarly, wrinkled hand on my bare thigh. It’s an invitation for a murder.”

“Don’t even make me imagine things,” Krista mumbled. “I’m not being a bitch or anything, but my preferences include young, nice-looking _and_ smart. I believe we’re all too young to be escorting our boyfriends to the toilet because they can’t make it on their own.”

“Talk about miserable.” Tammy rolled her eyes. “I am not spending the rest of my life in servitude to some ancient pervert who can’t get it up even when pumped with unhealthy doses of Viagra.”

“And you two should kind of shut up because people are arriving,” Giselle piped up. “That isn’t exactly the kind of conversation that you should be having in public places.”

“Oh, please; I’ll say whatever I want whenever I want,” Tammy said haughtily, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “A little attitude goes a long way.”

“I’m with you on that,” Krista said with a giggle. “Check out Brandi—she’s got three men hanging on to her every word already. I can only wish that I could have been born half as outgoing as she is.”

“I think your initial shyness is a turn-on for your clients, though,” Tammy commented. “The way you fiddle with the hem of your dresses is adorable, really.”

“Ladies, you really need to stop gabbing now,” Coco reminded them. “Guests are starting to arrive and we don’t want to be caught gossiping by the reception area. Come; you two can help me serve the hor d'oeuvres. They won’t require much socializing on Tammy’s part.”

“Good enough for me,” Tammy agreed. “Brandi! Get your manwhore ass here now.”

“That’s actually a pet name,” Krista heard Brandi tell one of the men. “We call each other manwhore and slut all the time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I actually have a job to get to.”

“Is there anyone in this room that I need to know?” Krista asked as she watched Raja escort the dignified-looking people into the room. “I’m a bit of a hick when it comes to famous people, and I don’t want to look dumb just in case they talk to me.”

“Well, you’re lucky that I’m here to educate you,” Brandi said smugly. “And you’re also lucky that most of these gentlemen aren’t the types who would give you hell if you didn’t recognize them. As of right now, your only concern should be the Lambert family. See that jolly-looking fellow by the reception area with Raja? That’s _the_ Eber Lambert, world-class film producer. Word on the block is that he’s about to purchase thirty percent of the shares of Paramount out of sheer awesomeness. That hot mama on his arm is his ex-wife Leila; she’s a screenplay writer at Paramount. The chap making the rounds and shaking hands with everyone is their youngest son Neil. He choreographs stunts for a lot of action flicks. Finally, the one who keeps checking himself out in the mirror because he’s totally disinterested in everything else is Adam, the eldest son. He’s…well, he’s an actor and a socialite. He and Raja are good friends.”

“He’s cute,” Dominique said with a giggle. “Do you think he’s into boys?”

“He’s a bit of a playboy, that one,” Brandi replied. “He tried to come on to me once but I kicked him in the balls because he was being handsy while I was entertaining a client at another table. Frankly, I don’t know what he’s like when he’s not drunk, but I doubt that makes much of a difference.”

“And to think he’s thirty-something.” Tammy scowled. “I do not approve of people who waste their lives when they obviously have the capacity to do something with them. As long as you keep me away from him, I think we will have a very nice evening.”

“In short, Krista will be in charge of serving Adam Lambert.” Brandi winked at Krista. “You’re the only one who won’t burn him to the ground or straddle his lap and ask him to fuck you.”

“Oh gosh, I wouldn’t!” Krista shook her head, her cheeks aflame. “I’m just going to serve him his food and go away unless he orders something else. I won’t even talk to him.”

“I don’t think things are going to go as easy as you think they will, but I’ll let you hang on to that dream until it’s time to face the music,” Tammy sighed. “Anyway, I’ll be nearby. In case he grabs your ass, scream like a hysterical teenage girl so I can come to your rescue.”

Heaving a sigh, Krista reached for a tray of fancy-looking biscuits that were stuffed with fancy-looking things and made her way towards the dinner table, trailing closely behind Brandi and her tray of cocktails. Realizing that she looked as terrified as she felt (she should have had a couple of shots before leaving; she was so much braver when she was tipsy), she pasted a nervous smile on her face and hoped that she wouldn’t crack until the dinner party was over.

Things were so much easier to handle at The Red Room.

“Would you like a drink, sir?” she heard Brandi ask smoothly. “We have an array of nastily colorful drinks to serve as your poison for the night—Cook’s world-famous frozen Mojito is on the menu.”

“Thank fuck,” Adam Lambert grumbled as he accepted the Mojito. “I need something to curb my boredom. Do you think I can sneak out of here after dinner?”

“I heard that, Adam,” Leila Lambert warned her son. “And, no, you are not allowed to leave this room until this dinner is over. I can easily have your father deactivate your ATM card, you know.”

“No way!” Adam whined. “The lambskin leather gloves Dior customized for me are coming in from Milan next week; I need cash to pay for that.”

Krista bristled, all traces of shyness immediately replaced by irritation. Brandi was right; Adam Lambert was a serious jerk.

“Appetizers, Mister Lambert?” she forced herself to say through gritted teeth.

“They’re not good for my waistline, so, no.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Could you maybe ask the chef to whip up a salad? Everything on the buffet table is so fucking fattening.”

“…get it yourself, you jerk.”

The words escaped Krista’s mouth before she could even think of putting a lid on it. Humiliated, she stepped backwards and crashed into Coco. The jolt from the sudden impact made her lose her balance, and all her hor d’oeuvres made themselves at home on Adam Lambert’s lap.

“…oh my god,” she whimpered, gaping at the mess of greens, tomatoes, liver spread and other things. “I’m so sorry. Oh my god, I am _so_ sorry!”

“This was a fifty-thousand dollar suit!” Adam snapped. “It was custom-made by Karl Lagerfeld out of the finest wool in America. It’s fucking irreplaceable and you ruined it for life!”

“As if that’s going to be a problem for you!” Krista found herself yelling. “You’re filthy rich so you can have all the fucking Chanel in the world at the snap of a finger. I seriously felt bad, you know? But you ruined everything by spouting all that bratty nonsense!”

“That was not bratty nonsense!” Adam argued. “And I have the right to be furious because you ruined the best suit in my closet.”

“Last week, you said that weird shiny gray thing by someone-or-other was your best one,” Neil Lambert offered unhelpfully. “And give the girl a break; it was obviously an accident—plus, she apologized. Most people wouldn’t apologize to jerks like you.”

“Whatever.” Adam turned on his heel in search of the exit. “I’m leaving. You can all talk about how much of a jerk you think I am, but I won’t stick around to hear it.”

Tammy scowled. “What a prick. I was going to allow a tiny part of my cold-hearted self to feel sorry for him, but his attitude is so off-putting. I hope the food stains stay where they are.”

Krista sighed and shook her head. With as much dignity as she could muster, she strode purposefully in the direction of the kitchens to find someone that would help her clean up the mess. Her unfortunate run-in with the brat of the Lambert family had been a bad way to start the night, but she was determined not to let the incident ruin her chances of actually having fun.

Adam Lambert could fucking screw himself for all she cared.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Much to Kris’ relief, Eber Lambert had not placed any blame upon Krista or The Red Room in lieu of the dinner party incident. He had telephoned the club and asked to speak to Kris to apologize in behalf of his son’s terrible manners. Unfortunately, Eber insisted that Adam apologize in person, which only meant that Krista would be forced to see him again. Kris dutifully put the incident behind him, immersing himself into his work and his role as Krista Allen in an attempt to avoid thinking about everything else. Though he was still having rough nights, he found himself sleeping a little better as of the late. The nightmares were no longer as terrible (sometimes, he didn’t have them at all) and Brad dutifully kept him company on the nights when he felt like he couldn’t handle it on his own. Overall, there had been a dramatic improvement in his condition, and he felt pretty proud of himself for it.

“Uhm, Krista?” Brandi poked her head into the break room. “You have a client waiting.”

“I’ll be right there,” Krista promised, slipping her feet back into her heeled pumps. “Why the weird face, Brandi? Is the client wearing ugly orange crocodile shoes?”

“No,” Brandi sighed. “He’s very easy on the eyes, actually.”

Krista frowned. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“…because it’s Adam Lambert and a giant bouquet of red roses?”

“…you’re kidding me, right?” Krista asked faintly. “His dad told me that he was going to force the brat into dragging his ass over here to apologize in person, but I didn’t think he would actually go through with it; he seems to find it so easy to disobey his parents! I mean, you saw the way he behaved during the dinner party; it was seriously unbecoming of a man his age and place in society.”

“For the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to say,” Brandi admitted. “I gaped at him for about five minutes after he asked to see you. Coco had to kick me before I remembered I needed to function. I don’t know what he’s planning; his face was a total blank slate.”

“Great,” Krista mumbled. “I just hope we don’t end up fighting like Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“That would actually be insanely hot,” Brandi remarked thoughtfully. “Adam Lambert ripping up your dress and fucking you on the bar? That’s a gay man’s wet dream come true.”

“Sometimes, I hate it when you get ideas,” Krista sighed. “Anyway, you’d better wish me luck; I don’t want my temper to get the best of me tonight.”

“If you’re having angry sex, I want it recorded on video!” Brandi called after her. “Oh, and good luck trying not to rip his balls off.”

Krista did a critical once-over on her reflection in the large hallway and smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in her skirt before heading out into the main area. It wasn’t difficult to spot Adam; he was seated in one of the more private booths by the bar, nursing what seemed to be an iced White Russian.

“How many has he had to drink?” She paused to hail Cook down at the bar. “Because I have no idea whether it’s safer to have a conversation with him when he’s drunk or sober.”

“He’s had a couple,” Cook replied. “Two, probably—both in ten minutes; the man seems stressed out. He’s been very quiet, so you might not kill each other. Anyway, what will you be having?”

“A Mojito, of course,” Krista grinned. “Make it three; I’m going to need to be tipsy if I want to be kind to this jerk tonight. Just send ‘em over to the booth.”

She slid into the booth and made herself comfortable in the seat across Adam, whose face was obscured by the giant bouquet of flowers that nearly took up half the table.

“Uh….hi?” she ventured. “I’m…well, I’m here. Uhm, obviously.”

“Look, I just really want to say sorry.” Adam moved the bouquet aside so she could look him in the eye. “My Dad asked me to visit to apologize in person, but I would have never come over if I didn’t feel like it. We obviously got off on the wrong foot with each other during the dinner party; I almost always lash out at people when I’m in a terrible mood. I know it’s a lame excuse, but I am sincerely sorry.”

Krista studied him critically. Adam Lambert seemed to be far less of a threat than he was when they had first crossed paths. He seemed calmer and more down-to-earth tonight with his less imposing clothes and natural makeup. Maybe she could actually give him a chance.

“We’re not going to be bosom buddies anytime soon, but okay. I forgive you.”

“Thank you.” Adam sounded relieved. “I got you some flowers, too. I don’t know you well enough—heck, I don’t know you at all—to know what would actually please you, so I got you these instead. Flowers are generic, but they’re pretty and girls like them, so yeah.”

“…you’re really trying, aren’t you?” Krista asked softly, nodding her thanks to Cook as he served up her order. “I’ve only been with The Red Room for a few weeks, but I’ve learned how to tell if men are actually being honest with you—not that anyone has ever tried to lead me on or anything.”

“Sutan’s a miracle worker,” Adam said. “This place has done so much good for all the gay boys in LA who just couldn’t seem to find their place in society. I don’t know how much he’s told you, but he led a pretty tough life himself. Winning RuPaul as Raja changed his life.”

“Sutan is amazing,” Krista agreed. “I wouldn’t have survived this long without him.”

“You’re not from here, are you?” Adam asked. “You have a distinct Southern twang.”

“I’m from Arkansas,” Krista replied icily, not wanting to dwell on the subject.

“…shit.” Realization dawned in Adam’s eyes. “Fuck, no wonder you’re here. I’m just---I just can’t---okay, I’m…I’m sorry, Miss Allen. I know how homophobic people in conservative states are; openly gay men like me might never be allowed to see the light of day.”

“Yeah, well, treatment of closeted gay men like me isn’t very different,” Krista said with a harsh laugh. “It’s one thing to have random strangers glaring at you from every which way while you try to shop for groceries. It’s another thing to have your friends and family shoot withering, disappointed glances at you just because you were born to fall in love with another man.”

Adam placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” she replied. “So am I.”

She lifted her Mojito to her lips, relishing the fresh, minty taste as the slow burn settled in her stomach. She hadn’t meant to sound bitter at all. She had taught herself how to keep in character when entertaining clients, but there was just something about Adam Lambert that pulled Kris out of the persona that was Krista. She had taught herself how to keep in character when entertaining clients.

“Do you visit regularly?” she asked him.

“When I have time, yes,” Adam replied. “Sutan and I go way back, so I bring friends here whenever I can to help with the business. You fine ladies don’t seem to need my help anymore, though. Your regulars and their friends are more than enough to keep this place going—plus, I’ve hear some clients are rather generous with their tips. Given the quality of staff Sutan keeps, I’m not surprised.”

“You sound like the type who has never come here for entertainment,” Krista remarked. “Actually, you seem like you do little for the sake of leisure. You pretend to be the childish jerk that the tabloids are painting you out to be because in reality, you’re actually quite devoted to your work. You spend endless hours on the set whining about everything just so you can make sure things are picture-perfect. It’s annoying and it makes you seem like the asshole you really aren’t, but it works for you.”

“…and you managed to figure that out how?” Adam’s brow rose in skepticism.

“Tommy,” Krista replied. “Or Tammy, whichever name you would know him better by. He taught me how to develop a backbone in this business. There are tricksters around every corner, so you have to know how to protect yourself from them. It isn’t easy, but that’s the way it is.”

“You’re like soldiers in sequined dresses,” Adam commented with a dry chuckle, ignoring the glare she sent his way as he reached for one of her Mojitos. “It’s pretty amazing, actually. The Red Room is a different dimension on its own—you could lose yourself in it.”

Krista swallowed nervously, knowing full well what he meant. In the world of The Red Room, only Krista existed. As soon as she set foot into the club, Krista was who she was and all she knew. Because of all the fun she had been having as Krista, she almost always forgot where Kris would fit in all of this.

“You’re thinking,” Adam said calmly. “You probably forgot who you are by now.”

“Don’t make assumptions!” she cried. “You don’t know me! You don’t know _anything_ about me or my life, so just…just shut up.”

“You’re right; I don’t know you at all.” Adam rose from his seat, a sense of finality in his tone. “I don’t know who you are because you’re hiding him under all those sequins and feathers—that isn’t the way things are supposed to be. It was good meeting you, Krista; I don’t think we’ll see each other again.”

Krista turned away. For some reason, it hurt her to watch him go.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“We should go shopping today!” Brad declared. “You need some new clothes, petal.”

“I’m confused.” Kris reluctantly abandoned his omelet to stare at Brad for a good ten seconds. “Didn’t a shipment of new dresses just come in yesterday?”

“Not for work, you dumdum.” Brad stuck his tongue out at Kris. “For you! You need something else in your closet aside from the plaid monstrosities you brought from Bumfuck, Arkansas.”

“Er, I don’t think day-glo shirts and purple pants would suit me very well,” Kris wrinkled his nose. “I mean, they look nice and uhm, colorful on you, but I’d look like a total poser in them.”

“Honey, I have zero intentions of putting you in an outfit only Cheeks can rock—no offense,” Brad said delicately. “I just think you deserve tighter jeans and shirts that don’t look like your brother wore them all throughout elementary.”

“As long as I don’t have to wear anything ridiculously frilly or obscene, I think I’ll live,” Kris chuckled. “And no, I did not take offense at that; Cheeks is an entity all on his own.”

“And this is why I love you.” Brad dropped a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll just hit the showers while you make love to your omelet and brush your teeth. As soon as I’m dressed, we can go.”

Kris rolled his eyes. “Knowing you, I’m going to have an extra thirty minutes to make love to omelet number two. Don’t take too long in deciding whether you’re going to use the strawberry, lime or apple shampoo—if it helps, you used the apple yesterday.”

“Great! That leaves only two for me to choose from. You can subtract five minutes from my usual bath time. Honey bear, I would not know what to do without you.”

Kris returned to his omelet, allowing his thoughts to stray back to the night when he had met Adam Lambert for the second time. It was frightening how they had each managed to sort out the other in a matter of minutes; there was something electric about Adam and the way he easily measured Kris. His cutting observation about how Kris chose to hide under the mask that was Krista had hit a little too close to home, hence the outburst. The worst thing about the entire situation was that Kris knew he was right. Brad, Tommy and Sutan were well aware that he was having trouble, but because they were his friends, they would refuse to push him unless they felt he was ready. Adam, on the other hand, was a complete stranger who knew everything there was to know about false personas; he was an actor, after all. It was probably why he had been so guiltless about expressing his opinions that night—they weren’t friends; neither of them would have anything to lose if they fought.

What bothered Kris most about it was that it had seemed like Adam was trying to say that Kris did have something to lose. He just couldn’t figure out what.

“…what do I have to lose?” he asked himself quietly. “What did he see that even I failed to notice?”

No one was there to answer him, of course. The only sounds in the apartment were the steady stream of water from the shower and background noise from the football game he had been watching on television before breakfast. Sighing, he busied himself with his omelet, hoping Brad would hurry the hell up in the shower so he wouldn’t have to mope while eating the second omelet.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Kris practically jumped out of his seat at the sound of Tommy’s voice. He watched in amazement as Tommy yanked the window shut behind him, flipping the latch back into place for good measure.

“Brad takes forever to open doors, so I scale the gratings and haul myself up,” he said matter-of-factly as he helped himself to some of Kris’ coffee. “Also, the novelty of using windows as a leisurely means of breaking and entering rather thrills me.”

Kris giggled. “Doors are just too normal for Tommy Joe Ratliff now, huh?”

“Exactly,” Tommy nodded. “We could all use a little abnormality in our lives.”

“…Adam Lambert asked for me two nights ago at The Red Room.”

“Really now?” Tommy arched an eyebrow. “And what did he want?”

“Basically, he came in to apologize for being such a dickwad the first time we ran into each other.” Kris shrugged. “I got a giant bouquet of flowers, too.”

“You mean that thing that looks like it’s about to tip over?” Tommy jerked his head in the general direction of the living room area. “I’m surprised you were able to carry it home.”

“I wasn’t,” Kris said solemnly. “I had to borrow a wagon from the kid who lives in the apartment across The Red Room.”

“At least it’s pretty.” Tommy shrugged. “You need to own at least one pretty thing that isn’t your face. I love you and your big doe eyes and your fluffy hair, but your clothes kind of suck.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Kris said dryly. “I feel so much better now.”

“This is me building your backbone strength,” Tommy reminded him. “You’re not crumpling up in defeat right now, so I’m considering this conversation as an achievement.”

“That’s because it’s just you,” Kris sighed. “I still lack the guts to defend myself in front of strangers or people from Conway if ever I run into them again.”

“Baby steps, lover.” Tommy pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t push yourself too far.”

“Of course you let yourself in through the window again.” Brad materialized from the bathroom in a cloud of steam. “I should really have my landlord install grills to the windows.”

“Metal bars won’t drive me away from my baby Kristopher.” Tommy smirked. “I know people, Brad; dangerous weapons aren’t exactly difficult for me to acquire.”

“Which is exactly why I am never walking into your apartment without an armored suit again,” Brad huffed. “The memory of finding a shotgun under your mattress will forever be ingrained into my head.”

Tommy hopped off the kitchen counter. “Better safe than sorry, little children. Anyway, we better get our asses out of here if we want to hit _Skin.Graft_ before the rest of LA sees the ‘FOR SALE’ sign; Cassidy stopped by yesterday to tell Jonny to save the size zeros for Kris.”

“I am not a zero!” Kris flailed.

“Not really,” Brad eyed him critically. “Maybe a two or a four.”

“In girl jeans,” Tommy added helpfully. “Kris needs women’s jeans.”

“I am going to keep my hands over my ears until we reach that store,” Kris scowled. “I’ll be so stubborn that you two will end up dragging me to a nice, sensible store like the _Gap_.”

“Fuck _Gap_ ,” Brad rolled his eyes. “We’re doing _Skin.Graft_ and that’s final.”

“I need better friends,” Kris moaned, flinging a hand over his eyes as they—Tommy pulling and Brad pushing—dragged him bodily out of the apartment.

Because Kris had such terrible luck, all of his wishes (getting a flat tire, getting stuck in a traffic jam, having Brad’s hair turn green) for a detour in Brad and Tommy’s conquest to bedazzle his wardrobe went unanswered. To make matters worse, Brad cheerfully told him that Cassidy’s friend Jonny would let them look around before he opened the store to the public.

It was a sure sign of Kris’ impending doom.

“G’morning, sweetcakes.” A tall, lanky dark-haired man pressed a kiss to Brad’s cheek. “Cass told me you’d be stopping by with a fashion emergency.”

“Jonny, I’d like you to meet my pride and joy,” Brad said solemnly, tucking Kris under his arm. “This is Kris Allen. He works nights with Tommy and me at Sutan’s and is in bad need of a wardrobe that does not suffer from a terrible influx of plaid. Krissifer, this is Jonny Cota, head designer of Skin.Graft and your ultimate go-to guy if you need something amazing to wear.”

“Pleased to meet you, dollface.” Jonny grinned. “Have a look around and feel free to try on as much things as you want. There’s no one here but Adam Lambert and myself, so no one’s going to bother you.”

Kris was certain his eyes had grown to the size of saucers. “…like, Adam Lambert?”

“The one and only,” Jonny said with a laugh. “Adam is Skin.Graft’s most prominent celebrity client and image model; I’m sure you’ve seen our promotional materials that feature him.”

“He hasn’t,” Brad sighed ruefully. “He ignores all my _Vogue_ magazines.”

“Mister Allen doesn’t need an issue of _Vogue_ to associate a face with my name.” Adam strolled out of the dressing room area. “We’ve met before; he knows very well who I am.”

“Ooh, aren’t we touchy?” Tommy smirked teasingly. “I’ll leave you to your own devices, gentlemen; I have a few purchases of my own to make. Brad, try not to stuff Kris into anything made entirely out of sequins and peacock feathers. Such creations are more up your own alley.”

“You wait right here, cuddle puff.” Brad instructed Kris as if he was talking to a very small child. “Jonny and I are going to get you some things to try on. If you run away, I’ll know.”

“Uhm, okay?” Kris blinked. “I’ll uhm, be right here, then.”

Of course they would leave him alone with Adam Lambert. Unrepentant traitors.

“Do you think this jacket looks alright?” Adam asked him, preening a little in the full-length mirror. “Jonny has the exact same thing in liquid mercury, but I’m having trouble deciding whether I should get that or this midnight oxide one.”

“You shouldn’t take fashion advice from me, sir,” Kris said politely. “I know next to nothing about it; I’m just here because my friends think that the amount of plaid in my wardrobe is equivalent to a national emergency. As you can see, I have no sense of style at all.”

“Just give me an honest opinion.” Adam held up a silver grey jacket identical to the black one he was wearing. “Black or silver?”

“Well, the silver one looks really cool,” Kris shrugged. “And it goes well with your eyes.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Adam said agreeably, divesting himself of the black one. “I also think you should get the black one. Come; Jonny has one in your size.”

Kris reluctantly followed Adam to another corner of the store where Adam immediately began rifling through a rack of jackets before pulling out one in a smaller size for Kris to try on.

“Arms up now,” he ordered. “Always get your jackets one or two sizes bigger than your regular shirt size, but never go beyond that; baggy is not the new black. Ah, this one hugs your body quite nicely—it’s tight yet not too tight and you don’t look like you’re drowning in it.”

“I’ve never owned anything with feathers at the sleeves before,” Kris protested. “Also, I can’t afford this! It isn’t on sale and I doubt Mister Cota will just let me walk out of the shop with it.”

“I’m the brand ambassador, Kris,” Adam reminded him. “Consider it a gift.”

“But I couldn’t!” Kris flailed. “I’d feel like I’m taking something away from you and I just know I’m going to end up feeling guilty about it for the rest of my life.”

“Chill, sweetheart.” Adam gripped Kris’ biceps, holding him still. “You’re not taking anything away from me by accepting a gift; you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. As far as I remember, you had a lot more fire in you the last time we met.”

“…that’s Krista,” Kris mumbled, prying himself out of Adam’s grasp. “That’s not me.”

“But you’re the same person, aren’t you?” Adam arched an eyebrow. “Just because you put on a dress and a wig at night doesn’t mean you transform into someone else.”

“Look, you don’t understand, okay?” Kris snapped. “You don’t and you never will.”

Adam crossed his arms over his chest. “Try me.”

“Why are you so insistent, anyway?” Kris glared at him. “You said you never wanted to speak to me again, remember? You sounded pretty sure of that, too.”

“I meant that I wasn’t going to speak to you again on the occasions that you have your walls up,” Adam said evenly. “I like you like this; you’re prone to short bursts of anger and sudden moments of depression. I know I’m assuming way too much, but seeing you like this makes me feel like I’ve cracked that shell you build around yourself when you assume the role of Krista.”

Kris stumbled as he took a step backward, suddenly afraid to be in Adam’s breathing space. “…you—you have no idea what you’re saying. If you know what kind of person I really am, you’d stay away from me. You’d hate me as much as they do—probably even more.”

“Who are they, Kris?” Adam asked softly, reaching out to him.

Brad came traipsing back into the main room. “Kris! I found some things for you to try on. There are kind of a lot and you might want to kill me, but I promise you they’re all amazing!”

Relieved by the distraction, Kris bade Adam a hasty goodbye before ducking into the dressing room area with his friends, confident that Adam would be unable to follow him in there.

“Are you alright, precious?” Tommy asked. “You look a little shaken up.”

“It’s nothing,” Kris lied. “I was just a little overwhelmed at running into Adam Lambert again.”

“Did he say something, petal?” Brad asked anxiously. “Because you don’t look too hot right now. If he said anything that hurt you or scared you, I’m going to run back out there and kill him.”

“Brad, please,” Kris placated him. “It’s alright; I’m alright. He didn’t hurt me. He just said a few things that got me thinking, that’s all.”

“He’s pushing you,” Tommy observed. “I think this is actually good for you, Kris—provided he doesn’t push the boundaries, of course. Maybe you should see him more often.”

“Tommy, I don’t even have his number!” Kris threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. “The fact that we ran into each other today is simply a coincidence; I don’t think we’re going to see each other again unless he walks into the club and asks for me.”

“Which is totally possible,” Tommy finished for him. “I saw the way he was looking at you, Kris. Some men enjoy puzzles they can’t quite solve—I have a feeling he’s going to come for you.”

“Can we just not talk about him for awhile?” Kris sighed. “I’ll try on whatever you want me to try on without complaint as long as we leave the Adam Lambert topic alone.”

“Yay!” Brad perked up, extracting a pair of stonewashed jeans from the alarmingly large pile of clothing he had brought in. “Try these on first; I picked them out especially for you.”

Kris sighed and resigned himself to his fate. Knowing his luck, Brad would force him to try on everything even if they would only go home with half of whatever it was that tickled his fancy. Before they left, Jonny wordlessly pressed a carefully wrapped parcel into his hands. Kris didn’t have to tear the package open to know it was the soft leather jacket Adam had insisted on purchasing for him. Later that evening, Kris finally allowed himself to divest the jacket of its wrappings so he could hang it in his closet. Adam had been clever and cruel enough to leave a cryptic note with it:

 _Take it. Don’t be a stranger._

 _\- A. Lambert_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Krista was relieved that things in the club had gone relatively slow that night. She had volunteered for the closing shift since she needed the extra hours due to the hole their shopping spree had burned into her pocket, so she was pretty much the lone soul left in the club. Tommy had volunteered to stay and help as soon as he had changed out of his Tammy ensemble, but Krista had shooed him away after she promised him she would be home as soon as she locked up the club. Cook had stayed behind to clean up the bar, but he had left her to her own devices about half an hour ago. Krista loved her friends dearly, but it was nice to be alone with her thoughts for once. Her only problem about living with Brad was that she rarely had moments to herself unless she was in the shower or about to fall asleep. She had a lot on her mind right now, and the only way for her to clear her head was to be by herself for a little while. Fortunately, busying herself with clean-up duties had taken her mind off the clutter in her head.

“I guess that takes care of things,” she remarked, toeing off her stilettos. “I’d better change and head home; Tommy’s going to have a cow if I don’t make it back before the witching hour.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a loud rapping sound on the glass paneled door by the ticket booth. Much to her chagrin, Adam Lambert was standing there, looking terribly inebriated.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she hissed as she threw open the door. “Anyone could see you standing out here! Do you want your face plastered all over _TMZ_ tomorrow night?”

“It’s not like I give a fuck,” Adam flipped her off, moving past her to make himself comfortable in one of the booths. “Charlie Sheen’s fuckery is more important than mine, anyway.”

“You need to get your ass home, mister,” Krista scowled. “It’s nearly three in the morning and The Red Room is already closed. I need to go home right now, so I can’t stay and babysit you.”

“Fuck you,” Adam retorted drunkenly. “You’re the reason why I went past my consumption limit in the first place, Kristopher Allen. You’re like this annoying itch that just refuses to go away.”

“Why do I matter so much to you, anyway?” Krista demanded. “I’m no one in your life and nothing next to you. Why won’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

Adam’s gaze was predatory. “Because I want you.”

“No, you don’t,” Krista said quietly. “You’re just fascinated by me because I’m a puzzle you can’t piece together. It’s not that complicated, Mister Lambert; I’m just a scared queer in the closet unable to come out because I can’t bring myself to forget the nasty things people from home said to me. I came to work here after I saw how confident and comfortable Brad and the others are in their own skin. Assuming the identity of Krista is my only refuge from the reality I’m too scared to face, so I’m going to hide under these clothes for as long as I can. Now that I’m done explaining, will you please leave?”

“I’m not leaving.” Adam shook his head. “Not when I finally have the real Kris Allen in front of me.”

“…what are you talking about?” Krista frowned. “I’m still in drag, in case you’re too drunk to notice. Just because I told you my story doesn’t mean you earn a place in my life.”

“You’re angry, scared and fucking horny,” Adam breathed, advancing towards Krista. “Even if you’re wearing a disguise, the emotions coursing through your body are purely Kris’. You’re scared of outing yourself because of what happened to you, but you can’t help but want someone to manhandle you, anyway. You want to be cared for, you want to be loved…you want to be _fucked_.”

Kris whimpered as Adam backed him up towards the bar counter, the press of his muscled body a welcome warmth against Kris’ own. Adam slid his leg in between Kris’ thighs, hiking up his dress in the process. His palms were hot and rough against the sensitive skin around Kris’ hips, and Kris found himself arching into the sinful touch.

“I’ve wanted you since the day we met,” Adam panted harshly into his ear. “You were so fucking feisty, so full of anger; it gave me chills. But do you know what truly killed me, Kris? It was the haunted look in your eyes—they spoke _volumes_ of what your body refused to express. That look deserves no place on a face that is meant to be beautiful and happy.”

“…you’re killing _me_ ,” Kris whispered.

He let Adam turn him over and press his chest down on the wooden surface, holding him down with a firm grip while fumbling for something in his coat with his free hand.

“It never hurts to be prepared.” Adam set a packet of lubricant and a foil-wrapped condom down on the counter. “I’ve always been prone to random acts of debauchery, so I’m never short on supplies.”

“I’m probably the first guy who let you fuck him even if he hated you,” Kris said with a breathless chuckle. “Be gentle, though, okay? I’ve…never really had anything in my ass before.”

“…fuck,” Adam groaned. “You’ve never even fingered yourself open before?”

“I was too scared,” Kris admitted. “If my parents—or anyone around me, for that matter—caught me exhibiting any form of gay sexual behavior…well, you can guess what could have happened.”

“Oh, baby.” Adam’s voice was soft and soothing. “Of course you couldn’t---I should have remembered that. If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

Kris twisted his neck a bit to look Adam in the eye. “Don’t make promises you’re not going to fulfill. A big part of me may be shit scared and insanely embarrassed because my sexual experience is limited to jacking off, but there’s this small part inside that wants this so bad.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Adam growled, bringing his hand down on Kris’ ass. “They just don’t make ‘em like this in LA anymore; perhaps I’ve been fishing in the wrong pool all this time.”

Kris bit his lip as Adam’s hand crawled underneath his dress to rip his stockings and lace thong open, exposing his ass to the cold air.

“For the record, this is probably the hottest piece of ass I’ve ever chanced upon in my entire life.” Adam sounded awed, running his thumb down Kris’ crack. “Seriously, babe; I could arrange for a photoshoot with my pal Lee. We could have you sprawled out naked on my faux fur rug at home.”

“Are you seriously like this with all the guys you’ve fucked?” Kris glared at him.

Adam shook his head. “Not all of them had perfect bubble butts. Now, let’s get on with the prepping, shall we? I can assure you that we are both going to get insanely lucky tonight.”

As Adam went about with the necessary preparations, Kris found himself lost in his own thoughts again. Was he really going to spread his legs for some man he believed he hated? Given the description of his situation, it would be most appropriate to pull down his dress and hightail it out of there. However, he had always been a firm believer in the idea that desire surpassed all forms of logical thinking. When people wanted something, they would prefer to succumb to pleasure before even dreaming of the consequences their choices would entail.

“This is going to feel rather uncomfortable,” Adam warned him, pressing the flat of his thumb against Kris’ sphincter. “We’re going to start slow, but you have to tell me what it is that you want.”

“But what if I don’t know what I want?”

Adam pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ll figure that out soon enough.”

Kris’ breath hitched in his throat as he felt the tip of Adam’s finger breach the tight ring of muscle. It felt odd and certainly uncomfortable, but not necessarily painful. He wiggled his ass a little, trying to get used to the feeling of being penetrated.

“Kris, baby, no.” Adam stilled him. “If you move around too much, that’s going to be too tempting for me. Hold still so I can open you up properly, alright?”

“Such a gentleman,” Kris grumbled. “It feels funny, though. Like there’s something missing.”

“That’s because one finger isn’t enough to cause any real sensation down here,” Adam explained. “I’m going to press in with two now; tell me if it hurts.”

Kris nodded. He couldn’t resist squirming a little as he tried to accustom himself to the girth of Adam’s fingers. He knew very well that taking Adam’s cock would prove to be a very different experience; the idea terrified him a little, in all honesty. As if sensing his discomfort, Adam began to scissor him open in an attempt to relax his muscles. Kris bit his lip as Adam pressed in further; from the way he was poking and reaching in, it was as if he was in search of something.

“…Jesus, Adam,” he exhaled. “How far in are you trying to—oh, _fuck_.”

He arched off the counter when he felt a puzzling current surge through his body. It was a strange, alien pleasure; Kris had never felt anything quite like it before.

“I got it, didn’t I?” Adam sounded triumphant. “That was your prostate, baby; you’re going to feel just that good when I finally get my cock in you. God, you make the prettiest little sounds, too.”

Kris moaned loudly when Adam pushed in with three fingers, finally feeling the sting of being penetrated. Adam was angling his thrusts in such a way that he hit Kris’ prostate each time he pushed in, making Kris mewl like a kitten. If someone were to peek through the club’s large glass windows, they would have no trouble seeing him sprawled out on the bar with Adam Lambert’s fingers in his ass. The thought of being caught in the act thrilled and embarrassed him at the same time; it surprised him greatly because he had never allowed himself to explore his sexuality before.

“Fuck me, please!” he begged Adam, panting harshly in time with his thrusts. “…I want—I want to feel your cock inside me when I come.”

“I’m gonna make it so good for you, baby,” Adam promised, withdrawing his fingers from Kris’ ass. “But first, you gotta get the condom on me. My hands are slippery, so you’ll have to take care of this.”

Kris figured it was the perfect opportunity to wipe the smirk off Adam’s face. He rolled over from underneath Adam and wrapped his legs around Adam’s waist, never once taking his eyes off him as he tore the foil wrapper open with his teeth.

“I love it when you let your inner animal go wild,” Adam said with a grin, pulling Kris’ stockings down. “Jesus, you should see yourself right now. I feel so fucking hot because I know I was the one who made you look this debauched.”

“You gotta fuck me hard if you want to make me scream.” Kris winked at him before busying himself with unbuckling Adam’s belt. “That’s just the kind of toppy bastard you are, aren’t you? You want to make your little toys feel like you own them because you’re such a control freak. Well, let me issue a warning of my own as early as now, Adam Lambert—I’m not like those pretty boys who willingly sink to their knees for you; I’ll let you top me, but I’ll fuck you as hard as you fuck me.”

A soft whine escaped his throat when he finally succeeded in ridding Adam of his belt. It hardly surprised Kris that he went commando and was noticeably more hung than what was probably legal, but the realization that he was finally holding another’s man’s cock slammed into him like a bullet to his brain. Fascinated, he curled his fist around Adam’s cock and stroked him gently, trembling a little when he felt Adam arch into his touch.

“…am I doing this right?” he asked softly.

“God, yes!” Adam growled. “But if you don’t stop touching me, you’ll have to get me up and hard again before I can fuck you—and I know that greedy little hole is _aching_ to be fucked.”

Swallowing nervously, Kris rolled the latex over Adam’s cock, slicking it up with the lube when the condom was nice and snug around it. Adam gave his cock one last stroke—for good luck, perhaps—before pulling Kris’ legs further apart, positioning himself in the space between them.

“Okay?” he asked breathlessly. “This is your last chance to say no.”

“Give it to me,” Kris breathed, spreading himself open with his hands. “I want you to fuck me so hard that I won’t be able to feel anything but you for days.”

Adam chuckled, pressing the tip of his cock against Kris’ opening. “You’re crazy, do you know that? I’ve had boys beg for my cock before, but none of ‘em did it like you do.”

Kris moaned as he felt the head of Adam’s cock push into him, stretching him almost impossibly wide. Adam kept a hand on his chest, preventing Kris from pushing upwards as he guided himself into Kris’ willing body. He bit his lip and whimpered softly when he felt Adam’s crotch brush against his ass, indicating that he was fully sheathed inside him.

“You’re so big,” he muttered. “Fuck, Adam; I feel like I’m burning from the inside…”

“It’ll get better soon, baby,” Adam crooned, petting his hair. “You’re going to have to set the pace for this so I won’t end up hurting you. When the pain subsides, tell me so I can move.”

“It doesn’t really hurt that much,” Kris admitted. “I just feel really full, and it’s odd because I’m not used to it at all. Maybe I should have chanced upon a vibrator once upon a time, huh?”

“Don’t fret over small things,” Adam snorted. “Believe me; nothing gets a toppy bastard like me going more than knowing he’s about to fuck an honest-to-goodness virgin boy.”

“But I won’t know what to do,” Kris protested. “I won’t know how to—oh god, _Adam_!”

“That’s all you need to know,” Adam smirked, pulling out halfway to slowly slide into Kris again. “All you need to do is let your inner slut take over and make pretty noises while I fuck you.”

“That, uhm, sounds easy enough,” Kris said with an experimental wiggle of his hips. “Fuck, you need to do what you just did again.”

“Ahhhhhh, I see you’re the insatiable type,” Adam purred. “This will work nicely in our favor.”

Kris did not complain when he felt Adam hike his legs up even further, bending him like the men at Auntie Anne’s would their pretzels. He steadied himself by gripping Adam’s arms, allowing loud, breathy moans to escape his throat as Adam fucked him into the counter. Each thrust was a new experience; Kris felt like Adam was touching and sensitizing the nerves in his body he didn’t even know he had.

“Fuck, Adam!” he cried. “Harder, please! I want—no, I need it to hurt…”

“No can do, baby,” Adam whispered in his ear. “I would never hurt you.”

Kris shivered in Adam’s grasp, fully aware that he was nearing his peak. He clenched his hole around Adam’s cock, pleased to find out that such a small gesture could make Adam groan.

“You’re such a fucking cocktease,” he hissed, gripping Kris’ cock tightly. “And because you’re such a good boy, I’m going to help you come just this once---the next time we do it, you’re going to come because I’m balls deep in your delectable little ass.”

“Please, oh, please…” Kris murmured. “Make me come, Adam!”

Adam bent over him, bringing him to orgasm with quick, shallow thrusts. Kris cried loudly as he came, Adam jerking him dry all over his expensive white shirt. He lay there in a boneless haze as Adam continued to thrust into him, body finally going slack as he emptied himself into the condom. It was an indeterminate amount of time later when Adam eased himself out and tossed the condom into an empty trash bin behind the bar, zipping himself up afterwards. Kris bit his lip and shyly turned away as Adam wiped him down with some tissues, pulling his dress back down before helping him stand.

“I’m sorry about your panties,” Adam said with a grimace. “When I get too excited, I rip things apart—this was why they never let me play with certain toys when I was little.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kris assured him. “I have plenty more where that came from.”

Sensing the end of the conversation, Kris motioned for Adam to follow him to the door so he could finish locking up. As soon as he slipped the keys back into his purse, Adam curled a hand around his wrist, eyes blazing with the same fire that was there when he had first backed Kris against the counter.

“Come home with me,” he said softly. “I want to see Kris.”

Kris sighed as Adam pressed their lips together. He couldn’t help but suppress the shiver that traveled down his spine as Adam pulled the long, tangled wig off his head.

“Hush,” Adam whispered against his lips. “I won’t hurt you, baby. I promise.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thursday morning found Kris naked and half-asleep in a large bed of black satin sheets, the warm weight of Adam’s arm a welcome presence on his bare skin. Sighing happily, he nosed his way under the covers, rubbing his cheek against the skin of Adam’s chest. As soon as they had made it past the doorman of Adam’s condominium—one of the ritzier buildings in town—they made a beeline for the dining room where Kris squirmed and sighed as Adam licked chocolate syrup off his skin. It led to another two rounds of lovemaking and a bonus in the shower because Adam wasn’t staining his hundred-thread count satin sheets with something as unworthy as Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup.

It had never really occurred to him that he would wind up in Adam Lambert’s bed after ruining one of his many designer suits (Kris had gone on a field trip in his closet in the wee hours of the morning).

“You were muttering in your sleep,” Adam muttered, curling a hand around his hip.

“…mmmhh?” Kris burrowed his face into his chest in response.

“Something about having chicken for breakfast,” Adam said sleepily. “We can order in from that bloody Chick-Fil-A place down the street when I feel like talking on the phone.”

“Yay,” Kris mumbled into his chest, absently petting the hair there. “I like chicken.”

“You should probably call your friends back, too,” Adam continued. “Your phone has about six or seven missed calls and a barrage of text messages.”

“…fuck!” Kris shot up to sit back on his knees. “I forgot to tell Tommy that I was—I was…”

“That you wouldn’t be coming home for the next twelve hours because you spent so much time naked in Adam Lambert’s bed? I pray they believe you.”

Kris grabbed his iPhone from the table and stared glumly at the screen—Tommy, Sutan, Brad, Cook, Cassidy, and some of his other friends. How was he supposed to explain himself to them?

“Do you mind if I phone in for a rain check?”

“No problem.” Adam dropped a kiss on his forehead before getting to his feet gracefully. “I’ll be on the phone in the hall with someone from Chick-Fil-A; yell out your order when you’re done.”

Kris sighed dreamily as he watched Adam pad out into the hall completely naked, envious at how he was completely and utterly comfortable in his own freckled galaxy of skin. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he threw himself back onto the sheets and hit speed dial.

“What the fuck, Kris Allen?” Brad picked up after the first ring. “In case you haven’t noticed, your phone is full of messages and missed calls from people that love you. What the fuck have you been doing? Where the fuck are you? We are all worried sick here and—”

“I was having sex,” Kris interrupted him.

“You promised us you were going to come home at—wait, _sex_? As in the kind of sex where you spread your legs for some hot guy and let him slide his cock into your ass?”

“Yes, that kind of sex,” Kris muttered. “I’m…I’m at—well, I’m at Adam Lambert’s.”

The girly squeal of glee that erupted from the other end of the line assured Kris that he wasn’t going to get killed—by Brad, at least.

“Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. Oh my god. How’d it go, baby? Was it good? Was _he_ good?”

Kris blinked. “…you’re not even going to ask me how it happened?”

“Please; the important things come first on my priority list,” Brad said dismissively. “Now that I know you’re alive and well, I’m going to ask you really personal questions that are relevant to my interests.”

“I’m going to make this quick because I have to call Tommy and Sutan,” Kris replied. “But, uhm, yeah…it was good—really great, in fact. The countertop sex was insane, but once we got to the bed, he was really sweet and gentle. Oh my god, Brad; I think we did it…four times?”

“No wonder you’re still stuck there!” Brad said with a giggle. “You are coming home tonight, right? I’m going to order a cake from the local bakery, pretend I baked it, and we can have some gay boy time while you tell me everything in excruciatingly detailed detail.”

“I miss you already,” Kris said wistfully. “I’ll see you after lunch, maybe; I’m sure Adam has work to do. Heck, I don’t even know what his plans for today are.”

“Well, call me if you need someone to pick you up,” Brad offered. “But yeah, you should really call Tommy now; I think he busted a hole in the wall out of anger last night.”

“Crap,” Kris groaned. “I’ll get back to you if either of them will let me off the hook.”

It was a good thing that he had decided to call Sutan first, as he didn’t have the heart to give Kris a hard time even though what he did was admittedly idiotic. Tommy, on the other hand, spent a good minute or two yelling at him before telling him how he had scared the shit out of them and that he would never be allowed to close up the club again.

“And if that Lambert creature fucking breaks your heart, I’m going to run his clothes through a shredder,” Tommy growled. “He hasn’t been a bastard to you, has he?”

“He’s actually being very kind to me right now,” Kris replied. “Do you know that he’s out in the hall looking for Chick-Fil-A’s number in the yellow pages just so I can have chicken for breakfast?”

“Well, that’s quite considerate,” Tommy remarked. “He looks like the type who has never let the soles of his boots touch the floors of a fast food restaurant before. If he’s willing to eat Chick-Fil-A with you, then I won’t stand in your way…for now, at least. If he makes you cry or makes you uncomfortable with the issues you’re facing, you know the drill. Call. Me.”

“I will,” Kris promised. “Thanks, Tommy; I swear on the Super Mario brothers that I will be home by this afternoon. Brad’s picking me up, so you don’t need to worry too much.”

He ended the call and wrapped the sheets around his shoulders, stepping out into the hallway to see what his host was up to. Adam was sitting cross-legged on a plush divan, the phone book on his lap covering the bits Kris had gotten quite acquainted with earlier that day.

“Help an idiot out here, won’t you, sweetie?” Adam beckoned to him. “I have never eaten anything from here in my life, so I’m stumped at what to order.”

Kris giggled and went to curl up next to him, sighing happily when Adam looped an arm around his shoulder. He gently pried the cordless phone from Adam’s hand and issued an order for two chicken burger meals before handing it back so Adam could deal with the delivery details.

“They don’t have a very big menu,” he said with a shrug. “It’s called Chick-Fil-A for a reason; they specialize in the unhealthy preparation of chicken.”

“And to think you don’t seem to be gaining any weight despite all the calories you’re wolfing down,” Adam sighed dramatically. “I wish all of us could be that lucky.”

“Dude, there’s nothing wrong with the way you look,” Kris frowned. “I wish I could have even a fourth of the confidence you exude when you’re out there in the real world.”

“Well, I think you have a quiet confidence of your own deep inside,” Adam said. “The Kris who went to bed with me this morning? He was so unselfconscious. He knows he is sexy. Honey, you shouldn’t hide him beneath all the layers of fear you’ve built one on top of the other; when you let yourself relax, you’re a delightful companion. That was the best sex I’ve had in…in _months_.”

“I don’t know,” Kris shook his head. “I think it’s your fault, honestly. When I’m with you, I feel that I’m in control of my own emotions. I don’t feel like having to build the wall of Jerusalem around myself because I know you prefer the uninhibited part of me that isn’t afraid of his past.”

“That’s the real you, Kris.” Adam was insistent. “I understand that you’re afraid of being a little more open about your sexuality because of what happened in the past, but you’re not going to make any progress if you keep allowing your past to dictate your present. If I am the one who brings out the wilder, happier man in you, then so be it. I’m willing to help you out, Kris, but you have to be willing to help yourself.”

“That’s…that’s too much, Adam!” Kris protested. “You have other more important things to do, I’m sure. I mean, you have such a demanding job description; you don’t need to add to it.”

“Kris, there are things that I do because I need to do them,” he said patiently. “But more importantly, there are thing that I do because I want to do them. I want to be here for you, Kris. The fact that you allowed yourself to open up to me and even sleep with me as you are means that you are progressing. If anything, at least we proved that your sexual drive is normal—okay, perhaps a bit above average in that department—and you’re not going to run away from every man that tries to pursue you.”

“I guess,” Kris sighed. “That’s better than nothing, right?”

“Yes,” Adam beamed at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Yes of course.”

“Tommy was right,” Kris said, laughing softly. “He was the one person who said you might actually be good for me. He said I needed a push in the right direction, and it looks like you’re the one doing that. Of course, I wasn’t expecting things to go in reverse order.”

“I was drunk,” Adam apologized. “If I wasn’t, I can assure you that I wouldn’t have fucked you.”

“And none of this would have happened, so I say it was a good thing you chose to crash in at closing,” Kris giggled. “Everything happens for a reason, I bet. I don’t think the universe ever puts two people in the same room together unless they’re going to have a major impact on each other’s lives.”

“You know, you are a very smart little woodland creature,” Adam beamed at him. “I think I’m going to enjoy my stay in your universe, Kris Allen.”

“What role are you going to play in it, though?” Kris wanted to know. “Are you going to be my friend, mentor, fuck buddy, boyfriend, landlord or something else?”

“How about I pencil in a date for next week, and we’ll see how it goes from there?”

Kris nodded. That sounded like a good idea to him, too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“It seems like you’ve gotten yourself an admirer, baby doll.” Sutan set a bouquet of calla lilies down on Kris’ dressing table. “Adam has been stopping by more often than he usually does. I’ve known him for years, and he’s never been so enamored by one of my adopted children before. Don’t tell me that one night you spent in his care changed everything this quickly.”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t,” Kris said with a wry smile. “He has been very kind to me, Sutan. I don’t feel the urge to put on a dress and a wig whenever we meet outside of work. Actually, I think that’s the reason why he has been stopping by more often—he told me he would not come to see me here if I continued to hide behind Krista each time I got uncomfortable. So far, it’s been easy for me to act in my own consciousness within the walls of this bar, but that’s because most of the patrons are really nice. I don’t think I’d fare as well around more prejudiced people.”

“Still, I’d say Adam has a bit of a thing for you,” Sutan said with a wink. “How many times have you been spending the night with him, anyway?”

“Well, I have dinner with him about twice a week.” Kris was blushing a bright cherry red. “Sometimes, I stay over, but we don’t always have sex. He takes me out at times, but he’s okay with us just staying at his place to talk. I have no idea what we are, but it’s nice to have a friend like him.”

Sutan snorted. “Friend my ass. He likes you, pet. It shows. Do you have any idea how much flowers and chocolates I’ve been asking Cassidy to send up here? They’re all from Adam, kiddo.”

“I just don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship, though,” Kris confessed, stroking one of the petals with his fingers. “I don’t think I can give myself utterly and completely to someone else if I’m still not sure of who I am. I like Adam a lot, but I don’t want to jump into anything that might destroy our friendship.”

“If he’s really the one meant for you, he’ll wait,” Sutan assured him. “In the meantime, don’t worry too much about what the future holds; enjoy the present. If you’re having the time of your life right now, then live in it. Indulge yourself once in awhile, honey. It’s not a sin.”

“I guess I should,” Kris said softly. “And, uhm, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, baby,” Sutan replied. “Ask away.”

Kris drew in a breath. “…do any of your queens ever leave? Like, you know, go out there into the real world and try their hand at other things?”

“Some have, yes,” Sutan answered. “There are some boys that only come here because they need help finding themselves. My doors are always open to folks like that because drag can be a very empowering thing. When they think they’re ready to go, I let them—those moments are some of my proudest. I may not be a licensed therapist or anything of that sort, but I’m glad I have been able to help some people in my own little way. You know, Kris, you have a lot going for you. You’re a brave little man; you’re on your way to overcoming a part of your past that is so dark and dreary. I am so proud of you.”

Kris stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sutan’s waist, burying his face into his shoulder. Sutan wound his arms around Kris’ slighter frame and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“It won’t be long until you spread your wings and leave the nest, baby.”

“But I don’t want to leave you,” Kris protested. “I’m where I am now because of you guys; I can’t just walk away because I need to.”

“Baby, you will walk out of here because you _can_.” Sutan tightened his embrace. “And when that day finally comes, I will watch you walk out that door hand-in-hand with Adam. It will be monumental for him as well because it means you are finally ready to fall in love and give yourself completely to him.”

“I’ll take those words to heart, then,” Kris said warmly. “Thank you, Sutan.”

“You’re very welcome,” Sutan replied. “Now, get back out there, Krista.”

“Aye aye, sir,” Kris giggled, slipping on his heels before giving himself one last do-over in the mirror. “I can’t keep Mister Lambert waiting now, can I?”

He made his way to the corner booth Adam liked to stay in and seated himself across the actor, who was looking radiant in one of his less-than-fifty-grand suits. Laughing softly, he allowed Adam to take his hand and lift it to his lips, his cheeks heating up with the gesture.

“Did you get the flowers?” Adam asked. “I had Sutan take them to the dressing room.”

“I did, thank you,” Kris replied. “You could have just given them to me now.”

“Oh, you know me,” Adam said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I enjoy exhibiting my stalkerish tendencies when I can. Besides, it’s hilarious to see the irritation on the old lady’s face when I complain about her flower arrangements—serves her right for introducing her cat to my precious YSL shoes. Anyway, I come bearing wonderful news. You’re off tomorrow, yes?”

“As usual, yes,” Kris replied. “You want me to keep you company in the production room again?”

“That and I want you to hold my hand when they tell me that I’m up for my very first Academy Award,” Adam said with a nervous chuckle. “I wasn’t supposed to find out until tomorrow, but Chris—Nolan—just couldn’t wait to spring the surprise on me; he knows how hard I’ve worked on this movie.”

“Adam, that’s…that’s _amazing_ ,” Kris breathed, reaching out to grab his hands. “I’m so proud of you! Of course I’m going to accompany you to the set tomorrow—even if we’re both going to end up feigning surprise at the good news. I’m not much of an actor, so you’re going to have to help me out.”

Adam laughed. “We’ll deal with that tomorrow. Today, I want to celebrate—just you and me, baby. I asked Sutan if you could have the day off earlier this morning because I have something special planned for us today. However, you might want to get out of that costume.”

“I’m on it,” Kris promised, pressing a quick kiss to Adam’s mouth. “I’ll be ready in ten.”

“Knowing you, you’ll make it.” Adam winked. “Someday, you’ll make it to thirty and I’ll be the proudest man in the state!”

Laughing, Kris leaned in to steal one more kiss before heading back to the dressing room, already in the process of toeing off his heels and pulling off his wig.

“Big day today, hmmm?” Tommy drawled. “Lambert looks uncharacteristically pleasant.”

“Oh, shut up, Tommy,” Kris giggled. “Adam received word that he’s up for his first Oscar today; you can’t blame him for being all giddy.”

“Which means he’ll be walking the red carpet this year,” Tommy remarked. “Interesting.”

Kris frowned. “…why are you looking at me like that? You only look at people like that when you’re trying to point out the obvious.”

“Which is exactly what I am doing,” Tommy replied. “Think about it, mate. Your man is nominated; a nomination means a walk on the red carpet. And what does a nominee usually bring? A date. He hasn’t asked you to be his boyfriend or his wife or the queen of his palace, but as of now, you’re the only one he’s seriously dating. Kris, I’m not saying is going to happen for real, but there are huge chances that he will ask if you want to walk the red carpet with him. This means _public appearances_ , Kris. He’s an actor.”

“…that didn’t occur to me,” Kris said dumbly. “That didn’t occur to me at all.”

“Look, forget I said anything.” Tommy pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. “He’s been so good to you and he’s aware of the kind of things you’re afraid of—chances are, he might not even bring it up. I don’t know what will make you feel better in this case, but don’t dwell on it too much. He obviously went out of his way to leave work so you two can spend time together. Just have fun.”

“Okay,” Kris agreed. “Thanks, Tommy.”

He hurried back into the dressing room to change out of his dress and wash his face. As soon as his hair stopped being ridiculous—the wig always did awful things to it—he rushed back out to Adam, who made a face at the flat mop resting on the crown of Kris’ head.

“I have some product in the car,” he said, offering his arm gallantly. “You know I love you when you’ve just woken up in the morning, but for a day out, this simply will not do.”

“You’re not going to turn my hair green, are you?” Kris asked warily as Adam opened the passenger door for him. “I’ve seen what you have in your bathroom; not all of them look safe.”

“Trust me, it’s just hairspray,” Adam replied. “It’s right there in the glove compartment.”

Still suspicious, Kris unlocked the said compartment and pulled out a harmless-looking bottle of Vidal Sassoon hairspray. It was…well, red and metallic, but otherwise normal.

“So, has it convinced you of its normality yet?” Adam asked cheerfully as he settled into the driver’s seat. “You’re still looking at it like it’s going to eat you.”

Kris scowled. “Adam Lambert, you know I have been product-free for all my life until I decided to do drag. Now, if you would stop scaring me, I will let you put some in my hair.”

“Alright, alright,” Adam laughed. “Lean in a little—there you go.”

Kris squirmed as he felt Adam rake his hands through his hair, making it stick up every which way. Finally, he made a satisfied noise and pressed a kiss to Kris’ forehead.

“All done, beautiful. Now, we are ready to get this show on the road!”

“Where exactly are we going?” Kris asked.

“We’re going to have an overnight holiday,” Adam explained. “I booked us a villa at Terranea Resorts. We’ll have the whole night for spa treatments, swimming, cuddling in our luxurious king-sized bed, whatever floats your boat.”

Kris shook his head. “You’re amazing, Adam. I think I love you.”

“I _know_ I love you,” Adam grinned in response. “It’ll be great, babe.”

“…seriously?” Kris gripped his arm. “Because I’ve never told you how I felt about you before. That was so spur-of-the-moment, and I didn’t know what I was saying. Oh god, please tell me you meant that and that you aren’t mad! Because I won’t know what to do if you are and—mmph!”

Adam chose to press a hard, rough kiss to his lips, all teeth and tongue. “I meant it.”

“…okay,” Kris breathed, moving back into his seat. “I got that.”

Adam smirked. “Do you need another reminder?”

Kris batted his lashes. “I already forgot what your mouth tastes like.”

Adam moved to lean over the console. “Bite me when the light turns green.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kris moaned loudly as he felt Adam press into him from behind. He forgot whose brilliant idea it was to fuck in a steam room (it was amazing how they couldn’t get facts straight between the two of them sometimes), but the steam and the fog just made every a million times hotter. Somehow, Adam had managed to conjure a condom and a packet of lube from the pockets of his robe, and things had gotten messy from there.

“Oh gosh, yes!” he cried. “Fuck me, baby—fuck me _hard_.”

“Slut,” Adam murmured in his ear as he reached around to jerk Kris’ cock in time with his thrusts. “You love it when I call you that, don’t know? That’s because you are a slut, Kristopher; you’re my fucking slut and you’ll do exactly as I say.”

“Fuck, yes!” Kris hissed. “I’ll do whatever you want, baby; just keep fucking me like this.”

He spread his legs wider and pushed back against Adam, tightening the grip of his sphincter muscles around Adam’s cock. This was something Kris couldn’t deny; he _loved_ having sex with Adam. There was just something about being held down while being penetrated that made him feel ridiculously complete. Now that he had the luxury of getting it whenever he wanted it, he had become a bit of a slut. They were in what people called the honeymoon stage of their relationship, so Adam bending him over the nearest available surface had become a staple in some of their more passionate dates. Adam had even taken the liberty of filming some of their encounters for future reference; Kris always ended up hot and bothered whenever he watched one of their tapes.

“Love your cock,” he moaned. “It’s so huge and hot and it’s filling me completely. Do me harder, Adam; make sure I know who I belong to.”

“I love it when you let loose like that,” Adam breathed, steadily pumping in and out of Kris’ body. “You’re so sexy, baby—you don’t even know how perfect you are for me.”

Kris threw his head back, trying in vain to bite back a loud moan as he came into Adam’s loosely clenched fist. He tipped his head on Adam’s shoulder and buried his face into his neck, letting Adam bear his weight as he fucked Kris into his own orgasm. Laughing, Adam withdrew his softening cock from Kris’ ass and wrapped a towel around him before helped him out of the steam room.

“Can you walk?” he asked teasingly. “You did ask for a hard fucking, after all.”

“I’ll manage,” Kris said dryly, pushing open the glass door that led to the shower. “I’m just so glad this villa has everything; we don’t need to embarrass ourselves elsewhere.”

“Please; you get off on the idea of being watched,” Adam scoffed. “This is exactly why you were so enthusiastic when I fucked you in Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s trailer; he could have walked in anytime. Heck, you even let me fuck you in the bedroom we use on set.”

Kris rolled his eyes. “Is it my problem if you make me horny all the time? Maybe if you stopped walking around with your dick hanging out of your pants, I wouldn’t think about sucking it all the time.”

“For your information, my pants are just tight,” Adam said with a grin, rubbing his cock in the crease between Kris’ ass cheeks. “If you’ve got the goods, why not flaunt them, right?”

“You are so obnoxious,” Kris giggled, rising up on his tiptoes to lather the shampoo into Adam’s hair. “Just because you have a huge dick doesn’t mean you’re a special snowflake.”

“But only the glambulge can satisfy you,” Adam smirked. “Anything less would never be able to bring you to the heights of multiple orgasm bliss.”

“Why am I even dating you?” Kris put his hands on his hips and glared mockingly at him.

“Because I get you,” Adam said softly, pressing a kiss to his pouting lips. “I’m the only one who will.”

Kris sighed happily and relaxed into his embrace, letting the warm water wash away the remnants of their lovemaking. He was so lucky to have such an amazing, understanding partner who put up with him despite all his fears and insecurities. Sutan often told him that not all gay men—especially the lonely hearts club type that sought his counseling services—had the chance to get into a relationship like this.

“Babe?” Adam asked quietly. “There’s something I need to tell you—well, it’s more of something I need to ask you, actually. It’s…it’s really kind of important.”

“I’m listening,” Kris replied, knowing full well what Adam was going to ask of him.

“It’s about the red carpet at the Oscar’s.” Adam was rubbing soothing circles across the damp skin of his back. “There’s no date yet, but I’m planning to go with my Mom, Dani or one of my other friends. I know how you feel about making public appearances, so I’m not going to be selfish and ask—”

Kris stiffened against him and moved away, suddenly cold. He couldn’t believe Adam had said that right after saying that he understood Kris; this wasn’t what he had been expecting at all.

“…it didn’t even occur to you to ask me,” he said disbelievingly. “You just assumed I wasn’t ready to go out there and face the press because it means the whole world is going to know who I am. Well, guess what? You’re right; I’m _not_ ready—I don’t think I will be for awhile. But it would have been nice of you to at least ask if I wanted to come with you. I’ve always been second place in other people’s lives, Adam. I don’t want to be that way with you, too.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Adam murmured, reaching out for him. “Come here.”

Kris looked up at Adam from under his lashes, afraid to take the first step. Adam heaved a sigh and moved to wrap his arms around Kris, tucking him safely in the crook of his neck.

“You know I want to walk that carpet with you more than anything,” he said fiercely. “There is nothing I want more than to walk up to a journalist and say, ‘This is my man’; trust me, winning the Oscar will not even compare to being able to share that night with you. But you have to remember that lots of people watch the Oscars, baby—those you left behind tune in as well, I’m sure. If they see you with me, they’re going to start talking. To tell you the truth, I was thinking of asking Krista to be my date, but I don’t think that’s going to work all that well, either. I’m willing to wait until you’re ready, Kris. I don’t care how long it takes; I’m never going to force you into anything that will make you feel uncomfortable.”

“That’s so unfair to you, though,” Kris whispered. “I don’t want to be your burden forever; you don’t deserve to be weighed down by my issues.”

“Honey, I don’t see things that way,” Adam assured him. “I have issues of my own, too. I’m the world’s most histrionic creature and I get so fucking cranky when things don’t go my way. Honestly, you’re a hero for being able to put up with all my madness; no one who isn’t my mother ever stuck around this long to try and deal me. I’ve had a string of the most worthless relationships ever, so I know a keeper when I meet one. Kris, you’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I’m not going to lose you over something as small as this—all I want is for you to trust me.”

Kris locked his arms around Adam’s torso. “I love you. So, so much.”

“I love you, too.” Adam pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “And I’m sure, deep down inside, your family and your old friends still do. It’s just going to be a matter of time, baby; people can’t hate each other forever—it would kill us all if we did.”

“And we should hurry along with this shower,” Kris said. “Because I am hungry, and I know you will take about an extra half an hour to get dressed.”

“Psssshh, you exaggerate!” Adam scoffed. “I can get ready in like, fifteen minutes tops!”

“You lie,” Kris grinned, flicking some water at Adam’s face. “You’ll run around throwing clothes around the room, taking them on and off and asking me which I like best. In the end, you’re going to walk out wearing the first outfit you tried on. I know you, Lambert; I have been sort of living with you for awhile now.”

And of course, Kris was right.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So, who did he decide to go with in the end?” Brad asked.

“No one,” Kris sighed, poking glumly at his soggy fries. “He thought it would make me feel worse if I went with someone else, so he decided to fly solo. And where am I on my boyfriend’s big night? Stuffing myself with fries at home while waiting for him to grace the red carpet on television. I suck.”

He had just returned to his apartment from a rather uncomfortable afternoon at Adam’s. Adam had insisted he stay to help him get ready—though he mostly watched and dropped a few comments here and there when asked for his opinion—so he remained there until the limo had arrived to pick up Adam. Kris had tried to convince him that it was perfectly alright for him to bring Leila or Danielle, but Adam, ever the gentleman, said he did not wish to upset Kris any further by having someone else take his place. They had shared a nice, lingering kiss at the doorway, but the sadness in Adam’s eyes did not go unnoticed. Kris knew that he had put it there, and it made him feel worse than ever.

The thing with Brad was that he was so spot-on; he could tell when someone was having a hard time. Fortunately, this radar worked best when it came to Kris, who had been groveling and sighing for nearly a month since his holiday with Adam.

“You look troubled.”

“Of course you noticed,” Kris sighed. “Which is really quite convenient because I was going to ask for your help, anyway. This is really important; it could change the entire dynamic of my relationship with Adam.”

“He asked you, right?” Tommy narrowed his eyes. “Or he _assumed_ you wouldn’t want to go, so he went on ahead and asked someone else to go with him because he thought it would be selfish of him to ask you. Man, that guy is becoming predictable.”

“You hit it right on the nail,” Kris replied. “Anyway, I freaked out a little about it because it would have been nice if he asked me first, and because he’s just that amazing, he said he didn’t ask because it would merit a public appearance—and you know what a public appearance with an actor would do to me. It would defeat my purpose of escaping to LA to hide.”

“Is that what you still want, though?” Brad asked. “Or you’re starting to re-think everything because you feel like you owe him your bravery.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking about all week,” Kris mumbled. “He’s been so wonderful to me; I think it’s about time that I give something back. He said that nothing would make him happier than to have me at his side on his big day, but I don’t know if I can do it. The press will be everywhere; I’m going to have to answer all sorts of questions about him, myself and us. I’m so scared that I’m going to end up doing or saying something that will put his career in jeopardy.”

Sutan sighed. “The thing with you boys is that you are both such martyrs. You would much rather suffer alone in fear of hurting the other. Adam has always been that kind of boy; I do wish he would allow himself to be selfish sometimes. I always tell him he won’t go anywhere if he always denies his heart what it wants, but he comes up with some ridiculous excuse to push things away. He’s the kind of boy who would rather back down when things are starting to look up in fear of destroying that happiness. He’s scared, Kris; I think he’s far more terrified of this than you are.”

“I—I don’t understand.” Kris shook his head. “Why would he be so scared?”

“Because he loves you,” Tommy said simply. “He loves you more than anything.”

Kris felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. This was all so new to him because he had never felt so loved before. A long time ago, when he still got along with his parents, his mama used to tell him about how different the love of a lover was from that of a parent for a friend. Kris knew this, but he understood little of it—the couples in movies and book as well as those among his friends told him nothing of how it was to genuinely experience such love.

But now—with Adam—he knew.

To love someone was to want to wake up next to that person and dive in for a good morning kiss despite the morning breath. It was to have the desire to support that person during his times of trouble and celebrate with him during his high points. But most of all, loving someone meant being willing to make sacrifices and compromises because life no longer revolved around just one person. His life included Adam now, and he knew he was going to have to make adjustments to be able to accommodate him. What terrified him, however, was the intensity of the _want_ to do those things for Adam.

“Baby, you need to stop going to war with yourself,” Brad said softly. “Just…give in to what you want, for once. Let your gut instinct dominate your reasoning. That’s the only way to set yourself free.”

Kris buried his face in his hands. “…I want to be with him in every way that I can. I don’t want to be the kind of lover eternally cowering in his embrace because I’m afraid to see how people look at me. I want to be the kind of boyfriend he deserves to have—someone brave and supportive enough to deal with insults and questions from prying eyes. I wish I had been brave enough to volunteer to be his date before he walked out that door.”

“There you go,” Tommy said proudly. “See? I told you Krista was always a part of Kris; the confidence you exude when you’re wearing a dress and high heels has always been inside of you. It’s not changing your identity, but embracing who you really are. Right now, you might be a little unsteady on your feet, but that’s alright. Someday, you’ll be able to put your past behind you, but that’s not what’s important right now. Why? Your present is Adam; he’s the most important person in your life right now.”

“I could kiss those words right out of your mouth, man,” Kris said with a rueful grin. “Thank you. I owe all of you so much because you never gave up on me.”

“You should give yourself credit, too,” Sutan beamed at him. “Because you never gave up on yourself.”

Kris felt like flying. He felt like rushing out into the streets to dance with a passing stranger just because he was so happy. Once upon a time, he had convinced himself that ‘happily ever after’ only existed for some people. Kris had never been the kind of kid who repeatedly dreamt of handsome princes on white horses; all he had ever wanted was love in its truest, rawest form.

And now that he had it, he swore he wouldn’t let go.

“…would it be too late if I left for the Oscars now?” he asked quietly. “I still have the suit he had custom-made for me as one of his random not-anniversary presents.”

Sutan lit up. “Oh my god, you’re really going, aren’t you? I think we can get you ready in thirty minutes tops. Knowing Adam, he’s going to be the last one on the red carpet because he’s going to get distracted by some silly thing he sees along the way, so we still have time. Take a quick, shower, get into that suit, and Brad and I will help you out with your hair and a bit of makeup.”

“I’ll drive you,” Tommy volunteered, looking thrilled at the prospect. “I fucking love beating traffic lights in LA; it’s therapeutic for me.”

“Please.” Brad rolled his eyes. “You drive like my grandma.”

Kris made a beeline for the bathroom, trying to finish as quickly as he could without coming out only to smell half-human and half-leftover possum. As soon as he had finished, Brad practically pulled the suit over his head, critically checking it for wrinkles and loose threads before proclaiming him ‘the loveliest cum bucket in LA’ and sending him to Sutan for hair and makeup.

“All done, golden boy,” Sutan said triumphantly, giving him one last do-over before helping him out on his suit jacket. Your man is going to be so surprised to see you.”

“Come on, Allen,” Tommy grinned, tossing a helmet in his direction. “I think my Harley Davidson will do a better job of taking you to the Oscars than any car ever will.”

“Am I going to survive this ride?” Kris moaned as Brad and Sutan escorted him down to the apartment lobby. “Tommy only got the bike two days ago.”

“Honey, he drives like my grandma,” Brad reminded him. “And I am still alive despite the numerous grocery trips I have gone on with her, so yes—you’ll make it in one piece.”

Kris bit his lip nervously as he settled himself in behind Tommy. Knowing his luck, he could very well fall off and die or something equally terrible.

“Hang tight, Cinderella,” Tommy advised, putting on his own helmet. “We’re going to go at the speed limit to make sure you make it to the ball in time.”

“Have fun, darling!” Brad blew him a kiss. “You’re going to slay Adam Lambert.”

“Shut it down, Kris Allen,” Sutan grinned. “You’re going to do just fine.”

Nodding his thanks, Kris lowered the helmet visor and wrapped his arms tightly around Tommy’s waist, making a little squeaking noise as Tommy pulled out of his parking space and into the main road.

“You alright there, Allen?” he asked loudly, zipping in between two cabs to beat the red light. “At normal speed, we’ll make it there in twenty—fifteen if I drive at breakneck speed and ten if I drive like I’m having the time of my life. Make your choice.”

“I think I can deal with twenty minutes on this thing!” Kris hollered. “I would be happier with much less, but if we make it ten, you might have to call an ambulance for me.”

Kris ended up spending most of the trip with his face tucked against Tommy’s shoulder, only looking up every few seconds so he could tell where they were. He loved Tommy to death and would be forever grateful for this ride, but he would probably pass on a second trip the next time Tommy offered.

Still, he almost wanted to stay glued to his seat as soon as they arrived at the Kodak.

“Here you are, Cinderella,” Tommy nudged him off. “Enjoy your night—I promise you Lambert’s Mustang won’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight. You’ll get your happy ending.”

“Wish me luck, Tommy,” Kris said softly. “I’m going to need it.”

With that, he handed the helmet back to Tommy and made his way to the arrival area, hoping Adam hadn’t made his appearance yet. It was filled to the brim with celebrities, handlers and security officers, making Kris wonder how on earth he would manage to find Adam in such a crowd.

“Are you alright?” a low, throaty voice from behind him asked. “You look a little lost.”

Kris turned and found himself face-to-face with Angelina Jolie, who looked resplendent in her strapless black gown. Escorting her, of course, was her longtime partner (and Kris’ boyhood crush), Brad Pitt. He was sure he spent a few seconds doing a fine imitation of a fish before Jolie took pity on him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be so nervous,” she said, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “I’ve never seen you around before, so I guess you’re one of those new kids on the block. Are you up for anything tonight?”

“Oh, no,” Kris shook his head. “I’m just here to support my boyfriend; he’s a Best Actor nominee. I’m sure you’ve run into or at least heard of Adam Lambert.”

“Of course you’re Adam’s boyfriend.” Pitt chuckled. “You’re pretty much the epitome of what we call The Adam Lambert Twink Mold; I’ve had a chance to work with him on a short film I produced once—the boy is mighty talented. I only had him onboard as a guest actor, but he outshone my main man by far. Anyway, if you’re looking for him, he’s just about to walk on. You can still catch up.”

“Thank you so much,” Kris babbled. “I hope you won’t mind me asking for an autograph later at the Vanity Fair afterparty!”

He turned on his heel and squeezed past a bunch of other celebrities, eyes on Adam and Adam alone. He was posing for a few photographers by the red carpet entrance, looking debonair in his own custom-made head-to-toe black tux.

“Adam!” he called out, unable to restrain himself.

The look on Adam’s face as he watched Kris approach him was priceless. All at once, the cameras turned to Kris, eager to document his arrival as the reporters whispered among themselves.

“…I changed my mind,” he said shyly. “I know it took me so long, and I am so sorry for that. I realized that I want to do this for you not just because you deserve a lover who supports you, but also because I want to, more than _anything_. Well, I’m here for you tonight, and I hope you let me stay.”

Adam pulled him into an embrace and squeezed him tightly, bold and uncaring despite the fact that the world was watching them at that very moment. It was no surprise to Kris that he didn’t care as much as he thought he would; Adam was holding him, and that was all that mattered.

“I feel like I’ve already won,” he whispered into Kris’ ear before releasing him.

“Well, this is a surprise even the Best Actor nominee himself didn’t expect!” Giuliana Rancic waved them over. “We haven’t seen Adam Lambert this surprised off-screen before. Adam, who is this fetching young man that decided to grace us with his presence tonight?”

Laughing, Adam turned to face the cameras. “Giuliana, I’d like you to meet my darling lover, Kris Allen. Can you believe I almost left him at home this evening?”

“Be sure to thank Brad and Angelina,” Kris drawled. “They helped me find you.”

“I guess I’ll offer to babysit the brood, then,” Adam chuckled. “I feel like I’m on cloud nine right now! Having Kris appear out of nowhere makes me feel like I can do anything.”

“Just how excited are you for your man tonight, Kris?” Rancic turned to him.

“Very much so,” Kris said with a grin. “I’ve been accompanying him to the set when he was assisting with post-production, and I was really impressed with the fragments of what I managed to catch. I have to say, I didn’t get to see _Lies, Lies, Lies_ on the big screen until a second week after its box office premiere. Adam was sick with the flu on the premiere day, so we had to stay home.”

“It’s a shame, or else we would have found out Adam was hiding you from us much earlier,” Rancic laughed. “Congratulations again on the nomination, Adam. Enjoy the show, both of you.”

“We’ll see you at the afterparty, Giuliana,” Adam replied, reaching out to take Kris’ hand. “We still have quite a long way to go.”

“So, how was I?” Kris asked him as they stopped to pose for more photos.

“I couldn’t have handled it better myself.” Adam pressed a kiss to Kris’ nose. “Well done, my love. I can never thank you enough for being here tonight.”

“I can never thank you enough for loving me.” Kris pushed up on his tiptoes to kiss him.

As they finally entered the Kodak Theater hand-in-hand, Kris realized that it was time to bid farewell to his life at The Red Room. He thought of Krista, her sequined dresses and her high heels, and how it would hurt a little to say goodbye to her, an essential part of who he had been. It was time, though; she had done everything she could possibly do for him, and it was time to move on with his life. The warm weight of Adam’s hand in his served as a reminder that no matter what could happen, no matter what would happen, he would never have to walk alone again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 _“Remember your name.  
Do not lose hope—what you seek will be found.  
Trust ghosts. Trust those that you have helped to help you in their turn.  
Trust dreams.  
Trust your heart, and trust your story.”_

\- Neil Gaiman


End file.
